


Kinks in June

by comets



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, BDSM, Biting, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Body Swap, Breast Worship, But still consensual, Caught, Cock Warming, Cockwarming, Collars, Consensual Sex, Consent, Creampie, Crossdressing, Cunnilingus, Drunk Sex, Edgeplay, Endearments, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Exploration, Extra Stuffed, Face-Sitting, Femdom, First Flirtatious Encounters, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Frotting and Jerking Off?, Fucked Until Tired, Grief/Mourning, Grinding, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, Hate fucking, Implied Anal Sex, Implied Sexual Content, Insults, Kinda Toxic Sex, Leashes, Lies, Light Bondage, Light Temperature Play, Longing, Macro/Micro, Magic for Sexual Uses, Marking, Masturbation, Monsterfucking, More teasing, Multi, Multiple Pairings, Naked Cuddling, Neck Kissing, Nipple Piercings, Obedience, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Pain, Piercings, Pillow Talk, Pining, Possessiveness, Power Dynamics, Praise, Praise Kink, Predator/Prey, Racism, Regret, Sad? Sort of, Safewords Kind Of, Secret Relationship, Sensory Deprivation, Ser/Sera Kink, Sex Outdoors, Sex Toys, Sexual Content, Shower Sex, Sir Kink, Size Difference, Sleepy Sex, Slight power dynamics, Smut, Spitroasting, Standing Sex, Tattoos, Teasing, Threesome - F/F/M, Toys, Undressing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Voice Kink, Voyeurism, Werewolf Sex, distention, distracted sex, getting caught, guided masturbation, horn grabbing, implied cunnilingus, light bloodplay, practice, wet dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:28:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 32,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24504658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comets/pseuds/comets
Summary: Really wanted to write some pairings that I doubt I would focus on in any of my characters' stories. One story for every day of the month of June! Some will be longer than others, but all will be at least 500 words/prompt. If anyone has pairing suggestions, let me know so I can write them in!More tags will be added as I continue to add chapters.*The racism tag is only for the Ulfric chapter, and isn't between him and the Dragonborn. I didn't imagine a Stormcloak-ruled Skyrim would be too happy with anyone other than a human, and I wanted to clarify.**UPDATE** I'm back!!
Relationships: Aicantar/Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Aicantar/Original Character(s), Argis the Bulwark/Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Argis the Bulwark/Original Female Character(s), Argis the Bulwark/Original Orc Character(s), Brelas (Elder Scrolls)/Original Male Character(s), Brynjolf (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Argonian Character(s), Brynjolf (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s), Cicero (Elder Scrolls)/Original Male Character(s), Cicero/Listener (Elder Scrolls), Cicero/Male Listener (Elder Scrolls), Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Farkas, Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Gelebor, Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Niruin, Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Rayya, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Dro'marash, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Ghorbash the Iron Hand, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Kharjo, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Male Dremora Character(s), Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Marcurio, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Ronthil, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Sanguine, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Sinding, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Tsun, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Ulfric Stormcloak, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Vilkas, Female Dunmer Character(s)/Dro'marash, Female Dunmer Character(s)/Kharjo, Geldis Sadri/Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Geldis Sadri/Original Female Character(s), Kharjo/Dro'marash/Female Dunmer Character(s), Kharjo/Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Dro'marash, Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Elenwen (Skyrim), Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Ondolemar, Male Dunmer Character(s)/Tacitus Sallustius, Niruin (Elder Scrolls)/Original Male Character(s), Niruin/Original Male Altmer Character(s), Ondolemar/Original Male Mer Character(s) (Elder Scrolls), Original Female Bosmer Character(s)/Marcurio, Original Male Character(s)/Tacitus Sallustius, Original Orsimer Character(s)/Ulfric Stormcloak, Rayya (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s), Ronthil/Original Female Character(s), Sanguine (Elder Scrolls)/Original Character(s), Sanguine (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s), Savos Aren/Original Character(s), Savos Aren/Original Male Bosmer Character(s), Savos Aren/Original Male Character(s), Sinding (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s), Sinding/Original Female Bosmer Character(s), Skjor (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s), Skjor (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Redguard Character(s), Tacitus Sallustius/Male Dovahkiin, Thalmor (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s), Tsun (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s), Ulfric Stormcloak/Original Female Character(s), Ulfric Stormcloak/Original Female Khajiit Character(s), Veezara (Elder Scrolls)/Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Veezara (Elder Scrolls)/Original Character(s), Vilkas (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 185





	1. Gender Neutral DB/Aicantar - Blowjob

**Author's Note:**

> Aicantar gets to relieve his frustration when the Dragonborn returns.

Initially, Aicantar found his free time empty. Conducting his own research alongside his uncle’s was interesting enough. But when he found himself wanting for more, he often found himself becoming frustrated as well. What was there to do in Markarth besides conduct research or work in the mines? The Dwarven ruins were stalked by the giant Frostbite Spider Nimhe. Consequently, he and Calcelmo had to stop their research before reaching the main chambers. His Dwarven spider work could only go so far without stepping farther into the ruins. He asked his uncle and the jarl if there was anything else to do so he did not melt into a puddle of boredom.

That was until the Dragonborn arrived.

Now, he sat at the edge of his bed, feet planted on the ground. His robes were pooled on the floor feet away from him. The Dragonborn’s head bobbed slowly between his legs. His cock was in their mouth, pushing into their throat. They swallowed, and he curled into himself.

“Please,” he begged, “slow down.” The Altmer’s breaths were ragged. It felt like all of the blood in his body was being sucked into his length. The vibrations from his partner’s soft chuckle made his toes curl. They hollowed their cheeks and worked their way off of him agonizingly slowly. The muscles in his thighs jumped. If he was not freed soon, he would definitely cum--

He was released with a soft pop and a sloppy kiss to the head of his member. He took the moment of respite to catch his breath. Maybe the Dragonborn was an agent of Dibella. Maybe they were just accustomed to this sort of coupling. Either way, how they played him like a lute made his heart clench and cock twitch. Aicantar had been involved with one individual before then. That had been a rather serious relationship that he expected to lead to marriage. However, when she had found out he would be leaving for Skyrim with his uncle, she broke off their relationship. Something about worrying about whether or not he would come back. That had been bordering on 10 years ago.

Now, he could not give less of a fuck.

He carded his hands through their hair. The hand at his base gripped him firmly and stroked to the tip. He worried his lip, watching them closely. Their lips reunited with the head of his penis, and their eyes focused on his. They kissed his tip again. Their skin was soft and warm. It was a welcome change from the cold harshness of the stone around them. As their mouth closed in around him, their hand stroked lower to make room. He knew they enjoyed teasing him and would do so for as long as he could take. They sunk to about halfway before coming back up. Then they resumed the rhythm from before. Their tongue worked tight, hot circles against his cock, and it was driving him wild. His dull fingernails pressed into their scalp. It had been nearly a month since he had last seen them, and he was already so close… 

The Dragonborn must have known him too well because they pushed harder. Their off-hand found one of his nipples and gently twisted and flicked it. Aicantar’s legs shook as they took more of him in. He doubled over, feeling himself pulse within their mouth. 

The release crashed over him like a giant wave. His seed, hot and thick, poured into their mouth. They continued bobbing and sucking along his length until he shuddered with overstimulation. He watched as they released him from their mouth and swallowed audibly. Goosebumps rose on his skin at the sound.

“I like it when I can have you all pent up.” They rose and straddled his lap. Muscled, battle-worn arms curled around his neck. Their mouth claimed his. 

“You are the only one that can do so,” he cooed when they pulled away. One arm came around their waist. The other hand snaked its way beneath their tunic and roved over their back. This was his favorite part: getting to revel in their presence in the afterglow. He buried his nose in the crook of their neck and breathed in their scent. He would gladly wait another three weeks or however long just to hold them again.


	2. Fem!Imperial DB/Rayya - Neck Fixation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rayya loves to tease her Thane.

“What would you like me to do, my Thane?”

Rayya was smiling behind the smaller woman. Delhe could hear it in her voice. The Redguard always enjoyed this game. At first it was slow and simple. The Imperial’s eyes darted to the dresser across the small room. There were small strips of fabric, bits of rope, and various other items. A strong arm came about Delhe’s middle. She was pulled back, and a free hand skirted the hem of her tunic.

“I, uh…” Delhe stuttered. The feel of Rayya’s warm hands on her skin tended to make her lose all sense of herself. Rayya’s chest pressed to her back. A calloused hand roved her thigh.

“You what?”

“I told you about using my title,” she murmured. The hand at her waist rose to her neck. Lips brushed against the shell of her ear. Electricity danced along her spine. Rayya hummed.

“I apologize, love. I reverted out of habit.” Agile fingers caressed the smooth skin along Delhe’s neck. A quiet, needy groan escaped from the smaller woman. How dare she do this knowing how sensitive Delhe was! Blunt fingernails dug into her skin. She twisted her head around to look at Rayya.

“You always apologize, but--” Rayya’s lips were on her’s. Then the housecarl pulled away. Her lips were drawn in a smirk.

“But?”

“Gods, fuck you,” Delhe breathed. 

Rayya’s mouth traveled to her Thane’s cheek. Hot kisses pressed into sensitive skin. The chestnut hand at her tanned thigh slipped beneath the hemline of her tunic. The light pressure on her neck ceased. It was replaced by her mouth as it traversed lower. Kisses turned into light nips, and Delhe tried to suppress a moan. Nails dug into her thigh. Rayya’s tongue lapped at the side of her throat. Delhe brought a hand behind her and took a handful of Rayya’s tunic in her grip.

“You are definitely trying to.” Rayya’s reply was almost lost on the Imperial. Delhe tried her hardest to come up with a coherent reply, but the noise that left her was a pitched sigh. 

She had chosen to not wear smallclothes since they were going to sleep. Feeling her partner’s hand grazing against her skin sent shivers up and down her body. The hand cupped her inner thigh and shifted it to the side. Her tunic slid up her body as her legs parted. More wet kisses and nips pressed into her neck, and Delhe arched her back.

“I will assume I can do as I please, within reason,” Rayya brought her mouth to Delhe’s again. Their embrace was slow, and Rayya worked the Dragonborn’s mouth easily. She swallowed the pants that her Thane tried to quiet. Fingers searched the smaller one’s legs. A gasp filled the silent room as Rayya laid her fingers against her Thane’s heat. It was wonderful to watch her struggle, but the last thing the housecarl wanted was to keep her partner waiting.

Though most of Falkreath was asleep, Delhe figured she would be up well into the early morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter done! I found this chapter better when I wrote it more dialogue-heavy. Posting two in one day to make up for missing the first. Thanks for reading!


	3. Male!Bosmer/Brelas - Standing Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thaean wants to try something new. He just needs Brelas to trust him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one got posted a little late! It's a little longer than the previous two because I really like the idea of this Bosmer character and wanted to flesh out his personality a little more. Thanks for reading!

Theaen pressed his body as flush to the female Bosmer as he could. The two were on the second floor of the New Gnisis Cornerclub, behind the staircase. His armor was clearly in the way, and so was her dress. But he would be damned if he did not try to fool around with his favorite before leaving Windhelm. One hand traveled along her chest, squeezing lightly at her breast. The other was beneath the folds of her skirt and rubbing against her smallclothes. One of her hands palmed him through his breeches. The other tried for more leverage against the wall he leaned her against. Her heavy breaths through her nose fanned across his face. 

He was away for far too long.

She hummed into his mouth when he pushed her undergarment aside and inserted a single finger. The hand at her chest flew to her leg and brought it up to his waist. He thrusted his finger at an agonizing pace, making sure that she was accustomed to the first finger. Then he added another. She bit his lip to keep quiet. The Gnisis Cornerclub was far too small for either of them to be making much noise.

A thumb came to rest at her ball of nerves. He circled it as he sped up his pace.

“Come _on_ ,” she whined against him.

“Come on, what? What do you want?” He smirked into her mouth. He loved hearing her say that she wanted him and could not wait any longer. Most of the time, he would grow impatient before she gave in and voiced her need. But he could wait. Admittedly, he kept to himself during missions, and that tempered him for the times when they were together. Though he would not have to wait long this time. Brelas pulled back, pressing her head to the wooden wall behind her to make eye contact. 

“I want you, asshole,” the other elf huffed. “Right here, we don’t need a bed. You were gone for two months and still have the audacity to be a prick.” She punctuated her statement with an eyeroll.

_Oh._ That certainly changed things. And to think when he first saw her in the cornerclub six months ago, she did not want to even look at him. He learned that it had been because of a certain human trying his hardest to “win her over” at a Thalmor party. He discarded the thought of the past as he hooked her knee into his elbow. Thaean tried to keep the hand fingering her at a steady pace, but it was hard to try that while attempting to free his erection.

“Come here.” Her words made his skin tingle. Both of her hands were at the hem of his trousers, already pulling the string fitting them to his waist. She worked quickly, and soon his breeches were hanging on at his thighs. His smallclothes were no challenge either. She untied the sides and unfurled them. When he was free, she quickly shooed his hand away from within her. Then she lined his head up with her entrance. He rolled his eyes. Brelas could be demanding when she wanted to be. But so could he. He gripped her other thigh and nudged her.

“What are you doing?” she asked bluntly.

“Just trust me. Put your arms around my neck.” She complied hesitantly. The male mer pressed her to the wall and leveraged her weight between it and himself. He hoisted her leg up and pressed up into her slit. Her nails dug into the nape of his neck as he sheathed himself within her. Brelas gasped at the sensation of him stretching her. She was a wonderfully tight fit and coated his length easily. A smile tugged at his lips as she pressed her forehead to his shoulder. 

“Are you alright?” He nudged the side of her head with his nose. She grunted softly and nodded against the shoulder of his leather cuirass. He drew his hips back and thrusted into her again experimentally. There was a contented sigh from her lips. Now that the two were still, it was easy to hear the shuffling beneath them. They would need to stay quiet so as to not arouse suspicion.

Thaean drew out. His thrusts were easy and shallow. Brelas turned her head towards him and buried her face in his neck. Hot breaths collided with his skin. She pulled him in like a vortex, slowly making him forget that he was trying to be quiet. One arm withdrew from his neck and came to her clit. She worked with her partner to bring them both more pleasure. As she played with herself, she squeezed in around him. His hips bucked into her at the sensation. Weeks without being able to see her stirred his blood and sent all of his thoughts to his groin.

His pace quickened. His hips collided with her thighs a few times, creating a soft, irregular pattern. He was not sure if the patrons or the owner could hear them. But while he was nearing his release, he could not care less. Heat pooled in his lower abdomen. His legs trembled. Pressing Brelas fully onto the wall, he nudged at her head.

“I can’t hold on much longer,” he grunted. She exhaled, and it sounded like a cross between a chortle and a sigh. Her lips brushed his skin and sent sparks throughout his body.

“Go ahead.” Her words were pinched. He could tell she was also close from how tightly her arm gripped his neck and how erratic her breathing became. He quickened his pace, stopping just short of slapping his hips into hers and alerting others of their location. His hands clenched into fists. Had it been any other time, he would be ashamed of finishing so soon.

But when his thrusts fell out of sync and his arms began to give, he did not care.

His orgasm crashed over him. He spilled into her, filling her as he trembled with the effort of holding her up and his ecstasy. The waves dwindled until they were short spasms from sensitivity. She was still working herself to her own orgasm when he pulled out of her. Seed dripped from her, pooling onto the wooden floorboards. He placed one of her feet on the floor, then the other. The hand at her pussy kept her dress hoisted at her waist.

“Now kneel.”

Thaean cocked a brow but happily obliged. He did not want her to leave their coupling unsatisfied.


	4. Fem!Stormcloak!Orc Dragonborn/Ulfric Stormcloak - Secret Relationship/Fucking Until Tired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hozra really wants to be with open about her relationship with Ulfric. But how would his supporters feel knowing he was infatuated with a mer and not a human?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! Sorry this is less on the sexual side and more on the feels/plot side. I see so few fics about Orc characters, and I thought that this would be a really good idea for a pairing. Once again, thanks for reading!

It was Morning Star throughout Skyrim. Snow fell heavily on the city of Windhelm, which was alive with revelry and drinking. Throngs of citizens sang and danced in spite of the cold. The New Life Festival left everyone lively, despite racial differences. Candles made by Quintus Navale lit up every window of the Palace of Kings. The flames ranged from normal orange-red to blues, purples, and greens. Fragments of conversation floated up to the rooms within the Palace.

The dining hall within the palace was loud with raucous laughter and shouting. Galmar and Jorleif roused the party goers into a rather off-key rendition of “Age of Oppression”. The prophecy had already come to fruition: the Stormcloaks had won the Civil War with much help from one of their newest recruits, a female orc. The opposers were exiled to Solitude, and Ulfric had taken his position as High King of Skyrim.

The butchered notes drifted to the upper floors of the Palace. The noises drifting from the High King’s sleeping quarters were much quieter, almost inaudible in the cacophony coming from below. Whispers and chuckles surrounded the Bear of Markarth and his partner.

“You enjoy pushing me to my limits,” he observed. The Nord was breathless and sweaty. He was sitting upright, and his gaze was focused on his partner. She was on top of him, riding him casually. It was their fourth coupling in one night, and he knew his next orgasm would be dry. 

His hands gripped her sides, thumbs brushing against the flatness of her stomach. The ends of her dark hair played at the backs of his fingers. Blonde hairs stuck to his forehead and the back of his neck with sweat. A sage green hand curled the wet strands at his neck about its fingers. One red eye and one white eye captured his blue-green ones. 

“Of course.” The comment had elicited a rare smile.The orc paused, sitting herself in his lap. She brought her hand to his face and swept the flyaway hairs from his forehead. The softness in her eyes was subtle. Something so intimate would betray her on the battlefield.

“But that isn’t why I do it.” She rutted her hips against him. Ulfric’s grip tightened on her middle as she tightened around his length. Warm lips and tiny tusks pressed to his mouth. He returned the kiss, leaning forward and pulling her to him at the same time. 

He found her extraordinary. She was nearly a head taller than him and was made up of hard, chiseled muscle. Her strength nearly surpassed that of he and Galmar combined. She could shout any one of them into ash, encase them in ice, or bend their minds to do as she willed them to. And he loved it.

“Then why do you do it, my queen?” She snorted at the title he gave her. He called her the names that they had all given her during the war when they were around others. Ice-Veins, Bone-Breaker, Snow-Hammer, Stormblade. They were true, but they were not what he desired so badly to call her. Queen, love, darling. Hozra. He rarely addressed anyone outside of his own council by their given names. But hers was like a sweet he had to wait for until after supper. It was the taste of victory on the wind after every battle.

It was home.

“Ulfric.” The word hung onto her lips and dripped like honey onto his skin. The lust that tinged her voice set his insides on fire. It always drove him wild when she used his name instead of his many titles. She lifted herself and his cock slid out to the head. He exhaled sharply as she came back down on him. Resuming her rhythm from before, the hand at his neck snaked into his loose tresses.

“I push you because I’m selfish. I want all that I can have from you,” she admitted. Ulfric arched a brow.

“You do have all of me, Hozra. You swore your loyalty to my cause, and I have sworn myself to you.”

She gradually increased her pace as she gripped a fistful of his hair. She tugged it gently, and he tilted his head back to look at her.

“Yes. But… the entirety of Skyrim is another matter. I am not a Nord, nor a Breton, Imperial, or Redguard. I am not human, love.” Her expression changed. She stopped, sitting still on his lap again.

“I do not think that everyone would accept me as I am. Or us as we are.”

His brows knitted as she climbed off of him. They often had the same conversation in private, but he thought otherwise. Though she hid her identity as Dragonborn from the others, they accepted her readily as a capable leader. What would stop them from accepting her as their High Queen? 

Hozra put a hand to his chest and pushed gently. Ulfric understood and laid back onto the pillows. He stretched out his arm, offering it as a pillow. She laid on his shoulder and pressed her face into the crook of his neck. His arm curled around her, his fingers drawing shapes along her skin. Her hand went to his length and rubbed at his slit, then his glans. He trembled at the contact, but it would not be enough to make him come. Her voice was barely audible when she spoke. 

“I hid the fact that I was Dragonborn. There are people across Skyrim that still lament the rumors of an Orc being Dragonborn from years ago. I am not the hero that old Nordic legends describe. And there are those within our ranks that still doubt me because of what I am, not who I am.” 

He wanted so badly to reassure her. To be right and just try to live their lives together in public. Though sleep pulled at his eyelids, he forced himself to stay awake. The last thing he would want was to fall asleep at a time like this.

“If our men cannot see you for the fierce lass you are and love you for it, that is their loss. But I think they  _ would  _ love you. You gave as much for the Stormcloaks as they did. You are the Stormblade. You are one of the best things to have happened to all of us. And to me.” He covered his mouth as he yawned. His other hand went to her hair, and he ran his fingers through the parts he could reach.

“But we don’t know that. We can guess all we like, but there is no guarantee that they will accept me as you say. I would rather sneak these nights with you than risk what we all worked months to achieve,” she confided.

“Love, look at me.”

Her hand left his penis and came to rest on his chest. She pushed herself up to look down at him.

“I love you. I want the whole of Skyrim to know that. Gods, I want all of  _ Tamriel  _ to know. As is Nord custom, I have an Amulet of Mara waiting to be used. But I won’t ask anything of you that makes you this uneasy. What I will do is wait. I will wait for you as long as possible. Perhaps we can change their minds on the Dragonborn first. Then if they found out it was you, they would feel less hesitant.” He yawned again, and Hozra leaned down to press her nose to his. A sad smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. She pulled back and laid her head on his shoulder once again.

“We should sleep. The festival will be over tomorrow, and there is still more work to be done.”

He thought about saying otherwise, but she was right. He nodded and nuzzled his cheek against the top of her head. His eyelids were already closed.

“Mmm,” he hummed. “Let us talk in the morning?”

She nodded her agreement, chuckling.

“Of course. Now sleep.”

Soft snores rumbled beneath her before she had finished talking.


	5. Gender Neutral DB/Farkas - Sex Outdoors, Grinding, and Wet Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Farkas really likes the new Companion, but hasn't expressed it to them yet. Sometimes his thoughts follow him into his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter down! This one is near and dear to my heart: I love Farkas and the thought that he would be less experienced with love and sex than the other Companions. Thanks for reading!

Some of Farkas’s dreams were of forests and fields. Ones with long, overgrown grass. Ones with enough space for him to run free for hours. Some were of Jorrvaskr, filled with drinking and happiness and revelry. Some were of specific people. He had dreams about Vilkas where they fought side by side. Dreams about Aela in her wolf form and them hunting together. Dreams about Kodlak and his patient wisdom. Now, his dreams were filled with the newest whelp. They proved themselves easily during their trial and took jobs as quickly as the Circle members could hand them out. They took their jobs seriously and had fun when they got home.

But the dreams he had been having lately were new. They encompassed heat and passion and so many other things that he had not given much thought to before. He dreamt of holding them. Of undressing them and laying them down in his bed. Of rutting into them until both he and his wolf were sated enough to sleep for years.

The field he found himself in this time was filled with mountain flowers of all colors. The sweet scent wafted on the breeze towards him. The wind blew lazily and danced over his bare chest and collarbone. The grass brushed against the knees of his breeches. Sunlight warmed his body all over.

Yards away stood the whelp. They were in a tunic and leggings as well, as he often saw them before they all went to bed. A wry smile played at their lips. His fingers flexed at his sides. He wanted badly to close the space between the two of them. Shoulder-length hair that had whipped about their face stilled. The grass rustled as they took a single step towards him.

“Farkas.”

His name is music from their lips. The melodious, husky tone drew him closer, and he took a step as well. They took another step. And another. The sound of crunching grass filled his ears until they were right in front of him. A hand came to his face and caressed the stubble on his chin. The hand wandered down to his neck, then to his chest. They applied insistent pressure, but he could remove them any time he liked. Their eyes searched his as they leaned in closer. As their lips connected with his, a burning heat pooled within him. Muscle-thickened arms curled around their middle. The sigh that fanned against his face was enough to make him pull them closer.

Their hands roved through his hair, along his jaw and neck, and down his back. Their hands were cooler than his own skin. The sensation left his hair standing on end. His erection pressed against them. A hand planted itself firmly in his hair and pulled.

“On your knees.”

He disengaged and obeyed. They stripped themselves of their leggings and tossed them. Their sex lingered in front of his face until they turned and got to their knees. As they propped themselves up on all fours, the grass crunched and bent beneath their limbs. They motioned him closer. Farkas inched forward on his knees. The two connected, his erection pressing against the firm curve of their ass. His length fit well into the cleft.

“Take them off.”

The prospect of feeling their skin on his made his heart flutter. His leggings were at his thighs within seconds, and he returned his naked groin to them. Hands came to their ass and kneaded the flesh. He slid his length along their ass, taking care to not press too hard and cause chafing. He wanted badly to continue and add more pressure. An idea came to him suddenly. The Nord pulled back and spit into his hand. He massaged the fluid along his penis before replacing the organ at their ass. They wiggled their rear at him. A breathy sigh from his lips punctuated the beginning of deliberate, testing strokes.

He pressed into their giving skin deliciously. The dull, rough texture of grass below his knees did not deter him. In fact, the sensations brought shivers through his body. His partner pressed their upper body harder into the ground, and their ass pushed into him. He and his wolf spirit growled in unison. His body curved over them, his hands reached around them. One hand traveled along their chest and abdomen while the other acquainted itself with their sex.

He sped up his pace, chasing his own release wildly. The noises drifting up from the Companion below fueled his desire further. Their legs trembled at the contact between their groin and his hand. His own orgasm was building quickly. He forced himself to keep his legs under control. They rocked with him. His free hand pinched at one of their nipples. The pool of heat in his abdomen deepened. His thrusts became spastic, and his thighs trembled. Within moments, he was cum along their back leading up to their shoulders. He kept working them through his orgasm. Moments later, they were teetering and pushed over their edge. The two panted, spent and tired, as they collapsed to the ground.

Farkas swept their hair to the side and kissed the back of their neck. A breathless chuckle escaped them, and he rolled off of them to lie in the grass.

\---

The Companion awoke to the darkness of his own bedroom. His skin was slick with sweat, and any shifting caused an uncomfortable sensation in his breeches. Blinking through sleep, he gripped the hem of his leggings. Peeling the fabric away from his body revealed that encounter had been a dream. Ejaculate coated the inside of his pants and dampened the clothing. He let his head loll back onto the pillow as a frustrated groan escaped him. He would have to find a release before it happened again.


	6. Male!Dunmer DB/Tacitus Sallustius - Voice Kink, Masturbation, Guidance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indls loves watching Tacitus, he just knows the other needs guidance at times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late! I had written half of it before completely scrapping it for something shorter and, in my opinion, better. Again, thank you for reading!!

Lips pressed to Tacitus’s ear. Warm, shaking breaths ghosted his skin as his partner spoke.

“Just like that. You look delectable,  _ sera _ , just  _ wonderful _ .” Indls’s husky voice sent sparks over the Imperial’s skin. The Ashlander’s lilt is musical and urging. Tacitus's own hand was on his cock, stroking as his partner instructed. He took his time with each stroke. Each time his fingers closed over the tip, he pressed his back into the Dunmer’s chest. Tacitus was broader, but his partner’s muscles were firm and rippled beneath him at every movement Indls made. A hard shudder wracked the smith’s body. A broad hand spread itself over his bare chest, and nimble fingers claimed all of the tanned skin they could reach.

“I love watching you jerk off,” the mer cooed. “Having you perform for me, and just for me…” He trailed off as his right index finger claimed Tacitus’s right nipple. He flicked it and pressed at it before taking it between his index finger and thumb and pinching. Tacitus whined and his toes curled into the wonderfully soft sheets of the Thane’s bed. His mind swam with a dozen broken thoughts. They were all separated by the jagged edge of ecstasy taking over him. He hung on every word his partner spoke.

“Now faster.” He obeyed. He worked himself faster, eager to please. Blue-grey lips latched to Tacitus’s neck and sucked at the skin. The Imperial flinched and his back arched. He felt words hanging on to his tongue, desperately wanting to be spoken. He wanted so much more. He wanted Indls all around him and inside him. He wanted to take turns fucking one another until they both collapsed on the bed. 

“Do you like doing as I tell you? Letting me watch you do something so  _ filthy _ ?” The word “yes” was lost within the human’s thoughts. He could only nod through his pleasure. They had been playing their game for so long that the pressure built within Tacitus’s body was deliciously painful.

“A verbal response, darling. Otherwise, I won’t let you finish.” The threat of not being able to cum brought a soft groan. He wanted badly to paint his own chest while Indls watched, but words were difficult. Another whine came before he could round up his thoughts to speak.

“Love it,” he sighed. “Being watched, it’s--great.” His words were breathy in the middle and clipped at the ends, matching the pace of his strokes. His cock throbbed with the need of release. The Dunmer released his nipple and let his hand wander to the skin above the base of his penis. The fingers of his right hand encircled the base, thankfully not getting in the way of Tacitus’s left-handed strokes.

“And you want to cum? For me?” The heavy breaths against his neck drove Tacitus wild. He nodded eagerly and pressed harder into Indls’s chest. He wanted so,  _ so  _ badly to feel an orgasm wash over him. He clenched his right hand in the sheets and forced the words out.

“Yes,  _ please _ , Indls.”

He felt the lips at his neck curl into a satisfied smile. Indls shooed the hand at his penis away and replicated the strokes with his own hand. A sharp gasp filled the room as he teetered on the edge. The Dunmer was well-acquainted with Tacitus’s favored techniques. He used them willingly: a slightly-less-than-firm grip and a subtle rotation of the wrist. The Imperial pressed a pleading hand to his partner’s arm. He shuddered when he was pushed over the edge. He came in waves, marking himself with thick, slightly transparent ropes of seed. Each crest left him wanting more until every wave had been ridden out. When his muscles relaxed and he started breathing again, Indls laid the softening member against his abdomen.

The Dark Elf kissed Tacitus’s ear, then his cheek. “You did great, love.”

The smith nodded weakly, his eyes already closing. He was absolutely drained. He felt Indls get up and let him lay down on the bed. He felt a warm, damp towel against his chest as he was cleaned off. And, finally, he felt Indls slip into bed next to him and draw the blankets over the both of them. Tacitus rolled over and curled up against his partner’s chest before dozing off to the mer’s steady heartbeat.


	7. Fem!Khajiit DB/Vilkas - Possessiveness, Predator, Cunnilingus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rikeksh knows about the Circle, but their habits are a little unfamiliar to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! So I wanted to clarify a little about this character. Rikeksh is of a furstock called Ohmes, which look more like Wood Elves than the traditional Khajiit seen in Skyrim and Cyrodiil. I imagine that they would have hair kind of like Sphinx cats: really short and not very visible, but soft! Anyway, thanks for reading!

Broad, Nord hands combed through the thin fur along the back of Rikeksh’s thighs. Her partner’s palm spanned the entire width of it. His hands pressed earnestly at her bare lower body, folding her knees to her chest. Her tail flicked lazily between them. A growl rumbled in her partner’s chest and made her shiver. He released her left thigh and used his free hand to rub against her heat. Her toes curled as she sucked in a breath.

“ _ Vilkas _ .”

The only acknowledgement she received was him applying more pressure against her lips. His skin was getting damp with her fluids, and it created the sweetest slick friction between them. He brushed over the bundle of nerves just above her vaginal opening. Vilkas leaned down in between her legs and hovered inches above her face. A single finger pressed at her entrance, and it gave. The finger slid in to the last knuckle. When her mouth opened in a moan, his lips crashed into hers. He was earnest and rather possessive but made sure to never hurt her. Unless she wanted it. 

He pulled his finger out slowly, nearly leaving her empty before pushing it back in. She whined against his mouth. A mere finger would not be enough, especially when she was more wound up than normal. He bit at her lips, leaving them swollen and flushed in his wake. Kept pumping in, out,  _ in, out _ . He was always serious. Always intent on having them both enjoy their coupling. But the way her fur stood on end told the Khajiit that something had changed. When Vilkas pulled away, Rikeksh saw the glimmer of gold within his irises. 

There must have been two full moons.

Though she was not part of the Circle, she knew what they were. The words flashed in her mind as Vilkas made his way down to her hips.

_ Beast. Hunter. Predator. _

His eyes never left hers, even as his tongue found her clit. He flattened his tongue and drew a long stripe against it and the hood. She felt her whole body tense and a second finger ask for entrance. Once she relaxed enough, another finger eased its way inside her. He sucked the tender skin into his mouth and suckled at it. His mouth was searing hot. His tongue made her nerves sing. Her tail curled, and she wanted to grab his hair and  _ pull _ . She wanted to make him feel as she did: lost in a disorienting sea of liquid pleasure and fighting for a hint at any direction.

She yelped when he nipped her sensitive bud. His eyes crinkled at the corners like when he gave a rare smile. The pain brought her partially back to the present. But he gave her no time to catch her breath. He continued the swirling patterns over the small nub. She tried to ground herself in something, anything: the softness of the sheets beneath her, his hair tickling her thighs. Nothing brought her completely back to Mundus. She had tried to be quiet, but it became too hard. She gulped a loud breath and a subsequent moan rang about the room. The other Companions be damned, it was too much to be quiet when he was pushing her to make noise. 

He released her from his mouth and pulled his fingers out. She kept eye contact when he brought his fingers to his lips and licked them clean. This was a different Vilkas, a new side to him that she could not recall ever seeing. But new was not bad. As he lined himself up with her pussy, a wolfish grin spread across his face.

“Tonight, you’re all mine.”


	8. Fem!Breton DB/Male Dremora - Face Sitting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabanna and Dymever have traveled together since she first summoned him at the College of Winterhold. Their relationship became more intimate over time, but now she wants to try something different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really should start working on these earlier in the day so they're not late. But I've been thinking a lot about Dremora characters and wanting to see more of them! Thanks for reading!

“Come. I would like for you to remove your armor.”

Isabanna could feel the Dremora’s eyes on her small frame. She always enjoyed the feeling of him watching her, whether or not she was naked. A gauntlet-covered hand reached out and ran over her bare rear. The metal of the armor was warm. But she knew from experience that the skin underneath was hotter, like the planes of Oblivion he hailed from. She took the hand and guided him. Nimble fingers unfastened the buckles along the inside of the gauntlet. She saw no harm in getting him started.

The piece slid off easily. It revealed darkened skin with crimson markings leading to the base of his fingers. The skin was so invitingly warm that she wasted no time intertwining their fingers. She led him out of the foyer, up the stairs, and to her bedroom. Once they reached the bed, she released his hand and placed the gauntlet on the nightstand. The Breton watched and relished the scene. Each buckle he loosened created more space between him and the stiff armor. The other gauntlet was removed, and she badly wanted to take his hands in hers. Both hands focused on the chestplate. Elaborate, nearly invisible hooks and latches kept it to his body. His chest was freed and the plate pulled over his head. Dark, thick leathers kept the armor from chafing his skin. 

She sat on the bed and leaned back. He eyed her with a familiarly restrained expression. Though they had become closer since she first summoned him a year ago, there were parts of him she did not know or understand. He told her little of what he did in Oblivion. But when he did, it was in bits in pieces, often during travel or in the afterglow. As he shucked his leathers and smallclothes, a smile curled her lips. He moved to her and climbed onto the bed over her, propping himself up on his hands.

His body eclipsed the light from the sconced candles and casted shadows against her skin. Her hands cradled his face. Thumbs rubbed against the red markings on his cheeks. She placed a tender kiss on his chin and then his nose. Something in his eyes softened. She pressed her lips to his. Heat seeped in through her hands, lips, legs, every bit of herself that made contact with him. He lowered himself onto his forearms, allowing her to lay her head back against the bed. 

“Dymever.”

“Yes, mistress?”

She bites his lip gently in response. She hated when he called her that. She told him early on that she would much prefer her first name. Or, if he saw fit, her nickname.“I told you that we are equal across Tamriel and on every inch of Mundus. And that includes the bedroom.” 

“Isabanna?” She hums happily at the change. She lets her hands wander down his neck and over his collarbones. Her fingers trace patterns over the top of his chest. 

“I want to try something. Can you lie on the bed?”

He rolled onto his side and let her wriggle out from beneath him. She watched him turn to lie long-ways from the side of the bed. His muscled form was familiar to her now, but there were still things she wanted to learn.

She climbed onto the bed near the top of it. When she reached past him to find leverage on the other side of the bed, he lifted his arm and took her hand in his. He treated her like something so fragile, as though the dragons’ souls within her could not attest to her resilience. She stood on the bed, bringing one foot over his chest to plant it on one side of his head. Her other foot found its place on the opposite side. She kneeled over his face and released his hand. 

Her cunt hovered inches above his face. He brought a hand to her ass as though to hold her in place.

“We can stop any time you want. Just pinch me, and I’ll get up.”

He made a noise between a hum and a grunt. She trusted he was listening. But from the way his manhood was awakening feet away from her, she imagined they would not be stopping. She leaned forward and kneaded the flesh at his chest with the heels of her hands.

“I want you to h _ ave fun _ \--!”

Dymever, the sneaky bastard, had wrapped his arms around her thighs and pulled her onto his mouth. Had his tongue been any hotter, it would have burned her. He rolled over her clit as though he were savoring an expensive wine. Her nails bit into his chest. Rather than letting him have all the fun, she leaned down and flattened her body against his. His cock greeted her eagerly. She felt the hiss against her flesh when she took him in her hand. As she stroked his length, she studied the various markings along it. The red markings looked like flames lapping at his skin. Her tongue darted out and felt the now-familiar ridges and veins. 

A smile settled on her face at the thought of him having more fun than she would.


	9. Assassin Dragonborn/Veezara - Flirting, Teasing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veezara feels weird about the new initiate. But when they approach him with a request, he doesn't see why he should refuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really, really like Veezara and wish that the Dark Brotherhood storyline went differently. I have a lot of ideas for this, but I decided to keep it a little more tame this time. Thanks for reading!

“Might I sit here?”

Veezara turned his attention from the slowly rippling waters of the shallow pool to the Dark Sibling next to him. They stood in their Shrouded armor, the lower half of their face covered by their cowl. Hazel eyes captured his own yellow-green ones.

“Of course. You need not ask, you know.”

They unbuckled their boots and slipped them off. As they crouched next to him at the edge of the pool, the Shadowscale eyed them curiously. There would be times when the Nord would seek some of the Siblings specifically. He never knew what the conversations with others were about, but he found an odd feeling lingering in his gut. They swung their feet into the pool and a content sigh escaped from behind their cowl. Veezara tore his eyes away and stared at the pool once again.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked plaintively.

A finger came to their face and hooked into the cowl. They pulled it down below their chin. “I have a favor to ask of you. More like a  _ request _ , if you are willing to go through with it.”

He arched a scaled brow. His tail flicked in curiosity between the two of them. “What could a Dark Sibling ask of a simple Shadowscale? Is there another contract for which advice is needed?”

“No, Veezara.” They smiled and leaned towards him. Their shoulder brushed lightly against his. “I was wondering, if you felt comfortable enough with it, if I could, ah,” there was a beat of hesitation. “If I could touch your tail.”

The Saxhleel’s brows knitted. What was so special about his tail? The look in their eyes was earnest and sincere. He had never allowed another individual to touch his tail. Then again, no one had asked. He was taught to stay physically and emotionally detached from others. But the Brotherhood had brought out something in him. He considered the consequences. He had no reason to believe they would harm him. If anything, it could be fun. His lips quirked up in a smirk.

“By all means.”

His tail rose, and the lower half settled itself in their lap. Their thigh gave slightly at the weight. The glint in their Sibling’s eye made his breath hitched.

“Alright then…” They removed their gloves and placed them next to their boots. They started by fingering the raised scales along the back of his tail. They had little to no feeling, much like the small horns along his jaw. He watched them, interested. What did they want to find out from this?

Their fingertips dipped to the side of his tail and traced the smaller, softer scales of it. The heat of their bare hand danced on his scales and was complemented by the heat from their clothed thighs. At some point, when he was not paying as much attention, their fingers slid to the underside of his tail. He breathed in sharply as blood rose to his cheeks. The Nord’s fingers stopped and eyes came to his. The gleam in their eye was dangerously gleeful, but their expression remained neutral.

“Veezara?”

He stared at them. When he did not respond, their fingers continued. His fingers dug into the soft ground beneath them. He gritted his teeth at the sparks that flew all over his body. He had never experienced a feeling like the tightness in his stomach at that moment. The anxiety of not knowing what they would do next mixed readily with the anticipation of them doing whatever they wanted. He bit the inside of his cheek until the discomfort of almost drawing blood forced him to stop. The beginning tightness in his breeches was getting uncomfortable.

“Veezara.” It was not a question this time. Rather, they were calling to him. The storm within him drew him towards them. He pressed his nose to their cheek and breathed in deeply. They nudged him and he drew back just enough to look at them. The grin on their face was wicked and enticing. The Nord closed the space and pressed their lips to his. Their lips were plush and inviting.

But as soon as the moment began, it ended. They pulled away, still grinning. Before they stood, they leaned towards him and whispered.

“I’ll find you later, after my contract.”

They stood and gathered their gloves and boots. Veezara sat, legs still in the water, staring up at them. They winked at them and sauntered off towards the sleeping quarters.


	10. Fem!Khajiit DB/Vilkas - Biting, Marking, Light Bondage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rikeksh explores new facets of intimacy with Vilkas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Elena for requesting a second chapter on Vilkas! I decided to keep him with the same partner, just a different scenario. Thanks for reading!

“Pull.”

The Khajiit tugged at the restraints on her wrists. She knew they were enchanted from the soft hum and heat that emanated from them, and they bit into her fur and flesh deliciously. When she kept tugging and they still didn’t budge, she smiled. Though the side of her face was in one of his pillows and her ass in the air, she knew Vilkas saw the change in her expression. She eyed him openly.

Rikeksh thought he was beautiful. The obvious tone of his muscle, his purposeful movements, the intense look in his eye. Everything about him caught her attention. The two made eye contact, and his lips quirked into a confident smirk. A blush rose to her cheeks. She loved watching him more than anything. A hand came to her back and rubbed circles just above the base of her tail. She melted into the touch. 

After a moment, the touch was gone. He raised the hand and brought it down hard on her rear. She sucked in a breath through her teeth. Her tail flicked against the bed. His hand ran over the reddening cheek.

She whispered his name, and he hummed in response. He circled her backside deliberately. All of her nerves in the area seemed to fire off at once. Her back arched underneath the contact. The bed dipped behind her, and she felt the warm press of her skin against his. His erection pulsed against her. Gentle, exacting hands trailed up her sides and over her shoulder blades. He gripped her shoulders and pulled her up and flush against him. Her hands were caught between the two of them. Lips roved the back of her neck and pressed hot kisses to her skin. Vilkas sucked greedily at some spots. She knew beyond a doubt that the spots would be visible in the morning. But with her growing arousal, she did not care at all. She felt him breathe in deeply and knew he could smell her heat.

He continued nipping and biting at her until she squirmed against him. There was only so much she could take being teased. One hand came to her throat and pressed gingerly at the sides. She gasped at the slowly increasing and then steady pressure. Then he bit her, hard enough to leave semi-circles of teeth marks on her tan skin. He drew back to admire the marks and ran his thumb over them. 

“By the gods, I just want to  _ ravish _ you,” he sighed. All of her fur stood on end at his voice just behind her. The little space he made between them left her wanting him back against her. She pushed herself back into him and tried her damnedest to grind against his length.

“Then  _ do it _ .” 

He pushed her back into the bed with a satisfied growl. She bunched her legs beneath her and pushed her ass into the air. He stroked at her sensitive folds with his cock, one hand on her waist. Before she could move further, he fully sheathed himself in her. Rikeksh bit her lip to keep from alerting the other Companions further. His first thrusts were slow and acclimating. He ground delectably against the sweet spot inside her. He stretched her in the best ways, and she dug her claws into her palms to no avail.

“You won't be running anywhere tonight.” He slammed into her and held her pelvis to his. “You think I would let you just  _ go _ ?” Vilkas leaned down and ran kisses along the curve of her back. 

“You are far too precious for that, love.”


	11. Male!Redguard Listener/Cicero - BDSM, Bloodplay, Aftercare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Keeper keeps, and the Listener listens. But what happens when the Keeper listens and the Listener speaks?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this is a REALLY long chapter. I got so into it that I wanted to flesh out a lot of Razzad's personality and his interactions with Cicero. I know there are a lot of fics were Cicero initiates intimate encounters, but I really like the idea of him sitting back and enjoying the ride. Anyways, thanks for reading!!

Cicero  _ adored _ Razzad. He was kind and gentle and understanding whenever the other members of the Brotherhood were not. He had helped with a broken wagon, defended the poor Imperial in spite of Astrid’s cruelty, and kept him alive when the order was to slit his throat. It was a treat to see him now, after the fall of the Falkreath Sanctuary. He stood tall and proud when he approached  _ Sweet Mother’s  _ coffin and kneeled to pray. He whispered, though he need not do so, in a tantalizingly soft voice to their Matron. The jester tried his very, very hardest to pretend not to listen in—ha, listening to the Listener!—but it was so  _ difficult _ . He often imagined the Listener speaking to him in the same warm, reverent voice.

But no! That voice was for Mother and Mother  _ only _ . Even if Cicero felt every syllable crawl up and down his spine just below his motley… He shook his head as he finished lighting new candles for the Night Mother’s altar. The flames danced beautifully against the gleaming metal of the coffin. Once he finished, he stood back to admire his handy work. It was an unholy right to see the Mother so freshly cared for. Cicero’s right, as Keeper. He smiled to himself.

“Cicero works to keep Mother’s body in tip-top shape. The Listener  _ listens _ and the Keeper  _ keeps _ and everything is  _ right _ .”

“Keeper.”

Cicero nearly jumped out of his skin at the Listener’s voice. The Redguard stood mere feet away. His fingers were knitted together just in front of him, and his gaze was soft. He had swapped his Shrouded armor for a simple tunic and breeches. The fabric clung sinfully well to him. Thoughts rose in Cicero’s mind like bubbles in a hot pot of stew. Each was entertained for but a moment before bursting and making room for another.

“Are you finished with your duties for the moment?”

The Fool of Hearts snapped back to the present. His mind reeled, but he quickly returned to himself.

The jester bows to the side, presenting the Night Mother to his Dark Sibling. “Yes, of course, Listener! Cicero is finished  _ oiling  _ and  _ tending  _ to dear, sweet Mother. Is there any way this lowly jester can be of service to Sithis’ chosen?”

The smile on the Listener’s face clawed at the Keeper’s heart. He thought of combing his fingers through the close-cropped beard. His skin looked so  _ warm _ , especially compared to the Night Mother’s. The few visible scars on the man’s body sang Cicero’s name. He took a single, absent-minded step closer to the Listener.

“I would like to show you something. And, perhaps, make use of your assistance.”

Assistance? Cicero lived to help the Listener! Tend to Mother, help the Listener, tend to Mother, help the Listener: it was a cycle he would be more than happy with. He nodded enthusiastically. He quickly busied himself lining up the oils and preservatives against the wall near the altar. A basin of water sat off to the side, and he used it and a sliver of soap to rid his hands of the chemicals. He snapped up to his full height when he was done and bounded over to the Listener’s side. He followed them around the metal bars, down the steps, and into the bowels of the Dawnstar Sanctuary. The halls wound wonderfully, and Cicero wondered just where they were going. What could the Listener possibly need humble  _ Cicero’s  _ help for?

He hummed all the while. He thought of the same hands that brought about Titus Mede II and Astrid’s deaths ghosting over his skin. They were such  _ beauteous hands,  _ exacting and specific. What would be done to  _ his  _ body? Maybe lasting bruises that left him sore for days, handprints that made it hard for him to sit, or even strikes hard enough to draw the  _ itty, bittiest pinpricks  _ of blood… He entertained such fantasies since the Listener had accepted Cicero back into the fold of the Brotherhood, and that had been  _ months  _ ago. Though his duty was to  _ keep,  _ he found it frustrating and aggravating and oh so  _ tiring  _ to keep secrets from the wonderful Listener.

When Razzad stopped, Cicero noticed they were in the Dark Brother’s bedchamber. Books lined the shelves neatly. His set of Shrouded Armor was laid out over the dresser. The soft  _ pat, pat  _ of his Dark Brother’s steps drew the Imperial farther into the room. He had been here plenty of times, mainly when the Listener requested a book to read or a specific weapon to take with him on contracts. Yet he had never just… stood around and looked. It was neat and clean and befitting of their highest in command. The jester was admiring a particular short sword when the other’s deep, even voice called to him.

“Cicero, you are the Keeper, yes?”

Cicero blinked. A wide, toothy grin spread across his face. “But of course! Cicero is the Keeper, the Fool of Hearts, a Child of—“

Razzad’s hum in response silenced him. He watched as the Listener leaned his weight against the stone pedestal at the foot of his bed. The Fool of Hearts wanted badly,  _ so badly _ to be closer to him, to be against him for as long as the Listener would allow. He felt himself worrying his lip as he watched so openly. The smirk that quirked the Redguard’s mouth sent  _ chills  _ along Cicero’s body.

“But the Keeper keeps more than just our Matron, correct?”

Cicero’s throat went dry. What was the Listener implying? That Cicero coveted items? That he kept secrets? But… he did keep secrets. He very blatantly kept the secrets of how he felt towards the Listener, what he wanted from the man, and what Cicero wanted to do in return. He found his heart so unbearably heavy. His hands curled into fists and uncurled at his sides. He could deal with watching and waiting and  _ settling _ for a life without the Listener’s attention. So long as the Listener did not scorn him.

But he could damn well try to cover it up. “What does the silly, wonderful Listener mean? Cicero is only Keeper, and Cicero only keeps! But if there is something that the Listener  _ requires,  _ the Keeper could—”

“Cicero. Smart, slippery Cicero.” He shook his head, the smirk still intact. “Come here, please.”

Without thinking, the Fool drew closer. He stopped a few feet away. The Listener motioned him closer again, and he complied. A hand, soft-palmed and callous-fingered, was extended to him. Cicero eyed it. Though he was not weary—not of the Listener, oh no—he was still cautious. Once he extended his own hand, the Listener quickly snatched it up and pulled him closer. He stumbled, having to spread his legs to either side to avoid knocking his knees against Razzad’s. A lean thigh created blissful—no, cursed!— friction at his groin. The man smiled down at him, his fingers having staked claim in the spaces between Cicero’s.

“ _ Adorable  _ Keeper. You may claim to be the Fool of Hearts, but you are no ordinary fool. You are cunning and swift and obedient, but  _ never _ a simple fool.”

The color that rose to Cicero’s cheeks positively glowed, and he felt it. The fingers knitted between his, the thigh pressed into his groin, and the soft breath fanning over his face were all from his dreams. Though he would never pray for something so obscene, the Listener’s body, voice, scent,  _ everything _ often roved about his thoughts and wreaked havoc during his down time. His free hand curled into a fist. If the Listener was teasing him, Cicero would not let himself be played like a lute.

“Cicero does not take kindly to teasing, dear Listener.”

Razzad arched a brow. He brought their joined hands to his face, his eyes locked on Cicero all the while. The Keeper felt his heart  _ thud thud thud  _ in his ears and found it troublesome to swallow. When warm, rough lips placed a gentle kiss atop Cicero’s hand, he sucked in a breath.

“The only teasing I enjoy is the type that brings eventual satisfaction.” It was a husky whisper. The hot breath against his hand raised gooseflesh on his arms and back. “And I would like to explore more than just that, if you are willing.”

Cicero kept eye contact with the other. He pulled their hands away from the Listener’s mouth and leaned in. When the other did not shy away, the jester brushed his lips against the Redguard’s. They were rough and sweet and  _ captivating _ , even better than the Keeper imagined. An arm looped around his waist and kept him close. They both abandoned one another’s hands, and Cicero’s arms wound themselves around the Listener’s neck. Lips collided and locked. Muscled arms hoisted the smaller male up. The Imperial locked his legs around his partner’s back. Razzad prodded at Cicero’s mouth, requesting entrance. Once his mouth was open, Cicero struggled to catch his breath. The Listener’s tongue lashed at the other’s and tangled with it as he walked the two to the bed. 

Cicero’s back was pressed to the soft blankets, and Razzad’s hands left the fool’s back. Fingers fumbled with the belt at the jester’s waist before the buckle clicked. The rest was a bunch of strings and fabric that made the Listener exhale in quiet frustration. Cicero smiled into their embrace. Poor, confused Listener. He would make sure to personally show them how his jester’s motley came off with ease at a later time. For the moment, he stripped himself of all he could with his legs still occupied. He parted the embrace to pull his shirt off over his head.

“ _ Oh _ .” A single, fascinated breath escaped from the Listener’s lips. Their lips claimed one another’s again, and fingertips explored the expanse of Cicero’s chest and sides. The jester was proud of the muscle he retained from when he took contracts regularly. From the way the fingers pressed into his reddening skin, Razzad was also rather fascinated. A growl bubbled in the Listener’s throat when he bit down on Cicero’s lower lip. The smaller male gasped as the pain sent blood straight to his groin. A greedy tongue swiped over the injury. Only when Razzad drew back to undress Cicero’s lower half did the Imperial notice that his lip was bleeding. 

Watching the Listener disrobe him was better than the largest pool of blood spilled in Sithis’ name. The Keeper’s eyes followed every twitch, every flex of the Listener’s body. His boots went first, and they ended up side-by-side next to the bed. Then went his trousers, pooled on the floor. They typically came off easier than his other clothing. His smallclothes followed. He knew when Razzad sighed that he was admiring his work, and Cicero’s cock twitched in response. He  _ felt  _ that he was a mess, cap forgotten, hair tousled, and lips swollen. What did that mean to the Listener, though? Razzad leaned down and pressed another, more chaste, kiss to Cicero’s lips before licking the remaining blood from the jester’s mouth. The Keeper held back a whine of need at the Listener’s next words.

“Lie down on the pillows, face down, and hold your arms and legs out.”

Cicero obeyed. In fact, rolled over and scrambled up the bed. He heard footsteps, a chest opening, and objects being moved. The rustling stopped and the chest closed. When the Listener came back, Cicero did his very best to lie still. Knuckles grazed the curve of Cicero’s behind and slid up to the small of his back. They made him shiver as they tickled the small spaces between his vertebrae. The sensation stopped at the base of his neck.

“Cicero, would you be interested in hearing about the favor I spoke of earlier?”

The thought had nearly slipped the jester’s mind. “If kindly, beautiful Listener is ready to tell.” He felt a hand on his right wrist before it was replaced by the soft scratch of rope.

“I have noticed your feelings, Keeper. I admire your resilience in staying quiet for so long. But I have other ideas. Ones that  _ can  _ and more than likely will be revised.” He tied Cicero’s wrist to the bed frame and tugged on the rope to test it. When he was satisfied with the resistance, he moved on to his right ankle.

“I have rather… specific tastes. I will never ask you to do things that make you uncomfortable. However, I will ask that you stay open-minded if we are to continue this. I have enjoyed our interaction and would like to continue, if you are interested in enduring a little pain.” He tied the ankle, tested it, and moved on.

When he did not speak again, Cicero assumed it was his turn to speak. 

“The Keeper will try anything the Listener can think of.”

There was a chortle before Cicero found his other ankle bound. “We will constantly revisit this conversation. I appreciate your optimism, though. I would hate to hurt you and not have you enjoy it.”

“Cicero would appreciate any—”

“Cicero. We will revisit the conversation. You are not surrendering yourself to me. Now, tell me how the bindings feel.”

The Keeper quieted and pulled at the restraints. They left room for him to move, but he definitely was not getting up any time soon. He heard Razzad scratch as his beard and footsteps moved away from him. The chest opened again. More rustling and gathering before the chest closed again. Footsteps. Then the slide of tied, worn leather along Cicero’s back made him yelp. A chuckle filled his ears.

“You make the most  _ interesting  _ noises. Now, I want you to relax. I am going to strike you, but gently. I want you to become accustomed to the feeling.” 

He nodded again. The excitement knotting in Cicero’s stomach only spurred his arousal on. The leather danced over his back, like Razzad’s knuckles moments before. Then it was gone. The moment after, the leather came down lightly on his back. He sucked in a breath as the nearly imperceptible knots on the ends of the toy struck him. His erection throbbed beneath him. The idea of the Listener striking him harder and leaving whelps and marks made him squirm in delight. 

“Did that hurt? We can stop, if you need.”   
  


“No! No, Listener, Cicero is fine!” he squeaked. “The Listener can strike harder whenever he feels the need to.”

“Please, Cicero, call me Razzad.” He punctuated his request with a heavier-handed strike. Cicero bit his lip to stifle a moan. He turned the name over in his mind.

“Razzad,” he sighed. A hum met his ears as the leather slid over his back. The marks felt hot, especially to the cool air of the Sanctuary. The sudden absence and subsequent strike made him arch into the bed. The coil of pleasure within him was winding tighter and tighter. It has been so long since the Keeper had been involved with another intimately that he was sure he would come soon. He panted, trying to catch his breath beneath the leather toy’s contact and Razzad’s gaze. 

“You seem frustrated, Keeper. Shall I hurry this along?” Cicero shook his head as wildly as he could. He was at a loss for words, but he would hate to skip anything. He heard the smile in the Listener’s voice.

“As you wish.” He struck again on his rear, harder than last time. Cicero’s lips curved around a moan. His thighs twitched, rutting his erection against the bed. He called the Listener’s name, and his voice broke.

“Yes, Cicero?” The jester heard and registered the restraint in Razzad’s voice. From his view on the bed, he could clearly see the other’s length struggling against the fabric of his breeches. He gasped at the sight. He wanted the Listener in his hand, in his mouth, just inside him. Cicero missed the other’s lips and hands. There was another strike and his hips bucked. The coil snapped, and Cicero curled in on himself as he spurted seed onto the bed. He groaned into his orgasm, and the waves crashed over him. The leather made slow circles on his back as he came down from his peak.

The bed dipped next to him as Razzad sat and gently ruffled his hair. “Would you like to be untied and cleaned up?”

Cicero nodded weakly. He was spent from the single orgasm, but he did not care. As the Listener untied the rope, he could not help his mind wandering to other potential encounters that the two would have. He was soon freed, rolled over, and picked up. He laid his head against the other’s chest. He would be too tired to remember much of the rest of the night. He would only remember being cleaned up and the heat of Razzad’s body as they curled up together beneath a clean blanket.


	12. Fem!Imperial Priestess of Dibella/Thalmor Agents - Threesome, Size Difference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Accanne is a priestess of Dibella and has been requested by the Thalmor. After her first few months living with them, Oronmir and Esteya enjoy a night with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I've never fully written a piece with multiple partners, but I ended up really liking this one. I have so many ideas for Accanne's backstory and how her time with the Thalmor agents would go. Maybe they'll appear again? Anyway, thanks for reading!

“Oronmir. And… excuse me, I don’t believe I have had the pleasure of meeting you before.”

Two Altmer, one male and one female and both in full Elven armor, stood before Accanne in her bedroom. She was well acquainted with Oronmir, since he visited the Agent of Dibella often. Yet the female was someone she had seen in the dining room and never spoken to. The male was already removing his armor piece by piece.

“Esteya,” the female elf stated plainly. She was beautiful! Even through the mer’s seeming indifference, the Imperial adored her sharp cheekbones, nose, and chin and her watchful eyes. She started removing her armor as well, though at a slower pace.

Accanne smiled. Most of the Thalmor agents that visited her for the first time bristled at the fact that she was an Imperial, though her smaller-than-average stature probably helped them become more comfortable.

“Have you been with a woman before, ma’am?” Accanne decided on the honorific while Oronmir shucked his chestplate and moved on to remove his boots. While she loved spending time with the male mer, it was her job as a priestess of Dibella to make the experience enjoyable for both of her visitors. When Esteya nodded after removing her helmet and gauntlets, she clapped inwardly. There were so few female Thalmor soldiers that she relished the little time she got with each of them.

She waited until only a tunic and cloth breeches covered the womer. “Then please, join me.”

She took the Altmer’s hand and led her to the four-poster bed. The mer eyed her closely before sitting. 

“May I join you?” Accanne’s voice was light, as she tried to keep it as to not sway her visitors. If they decide they would like to stop, she would at any moment. Esteya nodded again, and the smaller female climbed into her lap to straddle her. 

“C’mon, Accanne, don’t just focus on _her_ ,” Oronmir whined. He was needy, but she enjoyed the time he spent in her chamber either way.

She turned her head to the side. “Oronmir, give me a moment, please. Some individuals require attention and _time_ ,” she chided the impatient mer. His boots thudded against the floor before she heard his footsteps coming towards them.

“Now,” she breathed, turning back to the stunned agent in front of her. “May I kiss you?”

Esteya’s eyes widened and a blush rose to her cheeks. She nodded again, slowly, and Accanne brought their mouths together. But their embrace was short-lived. Oronmir swept her hair to the side and latched his mouth onto her neck. He kissed and sucked at her skin, knowing from experience how much she enjoyed it. The Imperial stifled a moan against Esteya’s mouth. She gripped the soldier’s shoulders to keep herself upright.

“Untie her robes, Esteya, don’t just sit there!” the other mer hissed.

The Imperial assumed the womer would not listen, but soon the sash tying her robes was untied and removed. A tongue flicked against her lips, requesting that she opened her mouth. The heat surrounding her and hands wandering her body was wonderful. Swift hands opened her robes and nudged at her arms. Accanne pulled her sleeves down and exposed her bare chest to the other. Esteya’s fingers pinched and tweaked her left nipple while Oronmir’s hand cupped and massaged her right breast. The female’s mouth was warm and her tongue in her mouth coupled with Oronmir’s mouth on her neck had her melting between the two. 

The warmth at her back was gone suddenly. Arms wrapped around her waist, hoisted her up, and sat her on her feet. All three of them were quickly shucking their remaining clothing. Once she was naked, Esteya was sliding backwards to the head of the bed. She eyed Accanne while the Imperial crawled up the bed to her. 

Most of the mer’s body was hairless, save the long, blonde locks atop her head. Her thighs parted and exposed the rest of her body. The flushed, rose-gold skin around her slit caught Accanne’s eyes and made her mouth water. She kissed the mer’s inner thighs, growing closer and closer to her mound. She felt Oronmir climb onto the bed behind her and stroke her growing heat with his fingers. Accanne nipped at the skin inches away from the womer’s pussy. Fingers combed through her hair while one slid into her folds and pumped in and out of her. She tightened around Oronmir’s digit and grabbed Esteya’s thighs. She held the other’s legs open while she buried her face into her cunt and ran her tongue along the slit. Another finger joined Oronmir’s first. Breath fanned against the mer’s mound as Accanne explored her with her tongue.

The mer behind her withdrew his fingers and ran his length against her wetness. The head pressed against her, and she latched her mouth to Esteya’s clit. The mer gave a soft cry of surprise. Oronmir chuckled at the foot of the bed and picked up Accanne’s hips, adjusting her before realigning himself.

“I should have warned you, she’s dangerous with her mouth. But I knew you’d find out for _yourself_.” He slid himself within her heat as he spoke. A moan rose in the Imperial’s throat, and the sound sent tremors over Esteya’s nerves. Accanne felt the soldier grip handfuls of her hair. Oronmir withdrew and thrusted back inside of her. His hands gripped her hips as he fell into a rhythm.

The Agent of Dibella was determined to have Esteya finish before she did. She lubed a finger with Esteya’s fluids before inserting it. She released her clit from her lips only to lap at it with her tongue. Her finger curled against what she guessed was a sweet spot, and she was rewarded with a delicious moan and trembling thighs around her face. She moaned as well when the male mer pressed against her spot and kept her hips flush to his. 

She heard the mer in front of her hiss in Aldmeris, likely to the mer behind her. He gave a breathless chuckle in response.

“Yeah, call me that all you want, but it feels damn good.”

She let another finger join her first and curl and press into Esteya’s insides. The hands behind her head held her there, but she had no ideas of moving. Oronmir began increasing his pace. Her lips sucked and imprisoned the mer’s clit, and she felt her thighs lock. Even her hands shook as Accanne drove her closer to her orgasm.

“ _Gods_!” Her voice was pitched and musical to Accanne’s ears. She thrusted her fingers faster and sucked harder at her pearl to push Esteya over the cliff. The sound and feel of Oronmir’s hips slapping against her rear and the slide of his cock inside her forced another strangled moan from her lips. The vibrations pushed Esteya the bit she needed. Accanne felt her face squished between the female’s thighs as she rode it out. She released her clit when the Altmer’s face scrunched in pain at the overstimulation. She laid a kiss to her spent partner’s mound.

“At least I get you to myself now.”

Oronmir’s hand left her hip, and his arm looped around her waist, pulling her back to his chest. She squeaked in surprise at the satisfying warmth on her back. She knew he would lift her up next and hooked her arm around to the back of his neck in anticipation. He slid his arms behind her thighs and lifted her off the bed. His length ground against a sweet spot within her, and she wriggled to try and fail to create more friction.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? You look absolutely divine…” He kissed her mouth and grinned as she whined against him. He lifted her a couple of inches off of his length and thrusted back into her. “Yes?”

“Oronmir,” Accanne’s voice trembled around the single word. She pressed her forehead to his cheek. He continued lifting her and sliding his length back into her. He loved teasing her and drawing out the lewdest sounds. She bit her lip and drew in a breath. “ _Fuck_.”

“What is it, little one?” he asked, nuzzling his cheek to her forehead. He had taken to calling her all sorts of nicknames after her first few months with them.

“Thank you for bringing Esteya.” The mer rolled his eyes and exhaled through his nose. 

“You’re welcome. But, forget about her for now and—”

“Focus on you, I know,” she breathed. She tilted her head up and claimed his mouth. Her free hand went to her clit, and Oronmir lifted her almost all the way off of his cock. He slammed himself back into her, harder than before. She clenched around him and earned herself a groan from his chest. His fingers dug into her thighs as he sped up. She felt her body tensing around him, and pressed her tongue to his lips. He nibbled at the muscle while she massaged her clit. 

He pulled back and kissed down the side of her face. “I could fuck your tight cunt for days,” he growled into her cheek. “Just lay into you until you can’t take it anymore.” Her body tensed as a wave rocked every nerve in her body.

Her walls spasmed against the mer’s dick. He nipped at her jaw. “Have you begging for more as soon as you were ready…” A moan fell from his lips as his thighs trembled. His thrusts were irregular and stuttering.

Accanne pressed her lips to his ear. She danced on the edge of her orgasm, but she wanted him there with her. “I want you to fill me as much as you can, Oronmir. Please!” 

He thrusted into her one last time before twitching and spilling inside of her. The heat of his ejaculate and her hand on her clit pushed her over. They rode out their ecstasy together until he began softening inside of her. He kissed the side of her head, down her cheek, and then her lips. She smiled at the soft kisses. Movement in her peripheral caught her attention, and she turned her attention to a now-conscious Esteya fingering herself to the sight of them. She froze under both of their gazes.

“I suppose we’ll be getting ready for a round two,” Oronmir observed.


	13. Male!Dunmer DB/Ondolemar - Toys, Magic for Sexual Uses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theryn get sent on an errand for Ondolemar, but the Justiciar doesn't account for him figuring out what the item is for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally uploading in a timely matter. I haven't read many fics with Ondolemar in them, but I like how he's written in the few fics I have read. So have my kinda OOC Ondolemar! Thanks for reading!

“And you expect me to believe that you found this… Dwarven artifact in a ruin, carried it all the way to the top, and installed it in your home.”

“I didn’t have to install anything, Justiciar. If my deductions are correct, it runs on steam. That being said, there would be no installation. I would only need to fill this chamber here with water and let it warm up.”

Justiciar Ondolemar arched a brow at the Dragonborn as he explained the artifact before the both of them. It seemed simple enough: a Dwarven chair with small doors along the seat area and switches on the side. The Justiciar could not deny that he found the contraption fascinating. He found so little time to explore the area outside of Markarth that having someone  _ bring  _ an artifact into the city was just the solution he needed. The Dragonborn, it seemed, was more than willing to fetch such an artifact.

For the right amount of coin and a little sweet talking, of course.

He had only given the Dunmer a few descriptive words about what he was looking for, but it turned up in Vlindrel Hall a couple of months later. It was rather good timing. But simply taking the artifact was out of the question. He watched the Dragonborn eye the chair curiously.

“You must know what it’s for since you asked for it. What does it do?” The Dunmer’s tone was light as he scratched at his chin. Crimson eyes darted to the Justiciar, and a knowing grin curled his lips. A tremor ran up and down Ondolemar’s spine. He knew the Dragonborn had  _ connections _ . But he had not assumed that the man would be savvy enough to do research into what the machine was for. 

“I… am not quite  _ sure,  _ Dragonborn—”

“Please. Theryn is perfectly fine.”

“... I am not sure what the contraption does, Theryn. I have heard rumors, read journals, but I have not seen it in action.”

Theryn’s grin was dazzling as he eyed the Altner. “Pardon me if this seems rude, but that seems nearly unbelievable. You paid me a sizable amount of septims to fetch an item that you knew  _ nothing about _ ? I took it upon myself to do a little research in case you tried to say that…”

The blood that rushed to Ondolemar’s cheeks colored his face a ruddy gold. He was speechless for the first time in his long life. The contraption was something he had been looking forward to seeing since he was stationed in Understone Keep. What he did not account for was the person finding the contraption to know what it did.

“If you would be so kind, Justiciar Ondolemar, as to remove your robes?” 

“What!? Dragonborn, you are pushing your  _ luck _ !” 

“You sent me into a Dwarven ruin.” Theryn moved closer to the Justiciar as he spoke. “One positively  _ filled to the brim _ with deadly little traps and Dwemer automatons.” He stopped just in front of the Justiciar. “I took down two Centurions for this thing. I am just  _ dying _ to see how it works. And I’m sure you’re dying to use it.” He pushed back the Thalmor agent’s hood.

Ondolemar frowned at the shorter mer, but the attention was welcome. Ashen hands came to either side of his face. Fingertips ran over the edges of his ears. A strangled groan rumbled in his chest. Lips ghosted over his own, and his eyes widened in surprise.

“I swear to you that I will make it worth your while.” The promise was softly spoken but firm.

The Altmer turned his options over in his mind. He would very easily refuse, walk out of the home and return for the machine later. But if he stayed… who knows what the elf had up his sleeve. He could have been ambushed as soon as he walked in, or before being promised something so desirable. But neither were the case. If the elf had anything dangerous in mind, the smart play would have been to use it before then. Ondolemar took in a deep breath and exhaled.

“At least give me room to get undressed,” he murmured. The smirk on the Dragonborn’s face caused heat to pool within the High Elf’s abdomen. He was given a few feet of space before he began undressing. His gloves and boots came off easily. He felt the Dark Elf’s eyes roving his body as he rid himself of the parts of his robes and handed them to the other, one by one. He even stripped himself of his smallclothes. By the time he was done, he was half-mast and eyeing the other back.

Theryn’s hands hovered just in front of him. Ondolemar motioned him closer, and the Dark Elf’s hands latched onto him. Their mouths collided, and Ondolemar felt lightning travelling over his chest. He growled into the embrace as a Sparks spell jumped between Theryn’s fingertips and caught on the Altmer’s nipple. He felt the Dunmer’s smile and saw it when he pulled away.

“You’ve never used magic like this?” His other hand held a Sparks spell and did the same to Ondolemar’s free nipple. The Justiciar struggled against the need to melt against the contact. It had been so gods damned  _ long. _ The electricity awoke every nerve in his chest and sent sinfully sexual signals to his brain. When he shook his head weakly, Theryn took his hands away from the other’s chest and grabbed his hand instead.

“Then I’ll show you what it can do coupled with your coveted little machine.”

The High Elf let himself be led to the machine, and he sat on the seat portion just above a small door. His companion held up a finger and left the room. When he came back, he held a flagon that audibly sloshed with liquid. He came around the side and pulled open a little drawer.

“And we just pour the water in, close the door, and press the button…” The machine whirred to life. Tiny clouds of steam rose from a lip at the back of the machine. 

“So, I assume that you know what most of these buttons do, but I was thinking. What if we just push buttons and see how things go?” Smiling eyes met Ondolemar’s wide ones. “Don’t worry, I’ll take it nice and slow.”

“. . . I sure hope you can read Dwemeris.”

“Nope. But I  _ did  _ play around with it before I brought it home.” He flipped a switch

“So you already knew—!” Ondolemar hissed as two small doors opened and Dwarven metal clasps shot out. They pinned his thighs to the seat. Theryn pressed a button, and a deep hum came from the machine. The door at the rear opened. A warm, viscous liquid coated the accessible skin of Ondolemar’s ass. His hands balled into fists and he thought of reaching for the treacherous Dunmer. But his lap was already being straddled with his length upright between the two of them.

“Of course I already knew. In fact, I only cared about this damn thing because  _ you  _ asked me to retrieve it. Had some other poor fool asked me, I would have denied the request outright. But the coin and honeyed words were a wonderful touch.” He leaned down and turned a dial. It clicked, and another puff of steam came from the machine. A thin, finger-like attachment prodded at Ondolemar’s hole. That coupled with the return of Sparks spells on his left nipple wrenched a moan from him.

“I’ll be honest, when I figured out what it did, I was surprised. If asked, I could have done much better than a little machine. But I played along.” The machine pushed past Ondolemar’s ring of muscle and eased inside of him. When it was entirely inside him, it curved and pressed into his prostate. Theryn caressed his cheek while he acclimated to the object.

“Then why did you trick me?” he gasped. Even the single insert made his thighs tremble and cock twitch. 

“Eye for an eye,  _ sera _ .” He slid his hand down Ondolemar’s neck, chest, and abdomen to his penis. “You tricked me with your beautiful face and lack of information. But, had you known that I knew what it was for when I got back, you wouldn’t have come here to get it. And I wouldn’t have gotten to see you use it.” Fingers curled around the High Elf’s cock and stroked him slowly. Ondolemar bucked into the sensation but was stopped short by the restraints on his thighs. Theryn nudged the dial with his foot, and another digit-esque attachment eased its way into the Altmer’s ass.

“And Boethiah as my witness, I’m glad that I waited.”   
  
Theryn quieted, watching the other wriggle against the sensations. The Justiciar panted as his thighs spasmed. The machine was doing far too much for how little Ondolemar had addressed his sexual desire in the past years. The hand on his cock stroked faster, and he doubled over. His forehead pressed into the Dunmer’s shoulder. 

“I can’t…” Ondolemar gasped.

The Dark Elf licked a line up the other’s exposed ear and whispered.“Then go ahead.”

Ondolemar pulled him close and held him there, keeping himself grounded as his orgasm sent hot sparks all over his body. His cock twitched as ropes of cum painted the front of Theryn’s tunic. He dug his fingers into the smaller mer’s sides as the waves gradually receded. When he was able to sit up straight, the Sparks at his chest were gone. The mechanical arm of the Dwemer mechanism was withdrawing into the seat. He panted, catching his breath before he spoke.

“Remind me to never send you on another ‘errand’ again.”


	14. Fem!Bosmer DB/Marcurio - Praise Kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcurio loves making the Dragonborn's life harder. He also enjoys when she'll spare a few sweet words for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a little trouble with this chapter, mainly because I've never purposefully written praise into a fic because a certain character enjoys it. But I'm learning a lot when about my own style and what I can improve on when I write these fics! Anyway, thanks for reading!

“ _ Fuck _ , Marcurio, yes, just like that!”

His hands were sweating and thighs cramping, but he lived for encouragement. Nimphel squirmed beneath him as he drove half of his cock into her time and time again. Her face had flushed a ruddy brown. Her small breasts bounced with each of his thrusts, and he wanted to take them in his hands and work them with his mouth. Her arms hung loosely around his neck

“So good, that’s so godsdamned good,” she cooed up at him. He leaned down and peppered kisses along her neckline. She whined softly into his ear. Marcurio would be willing to continue like that for days if he could hear her speak the whole time. Hearing her whine and praise him was all that he lived for in those moments. He paused in his strokes before thrusting into her as far as he could go. His cock created more pressure against her walls, and she gasped.

“Right there, oh gods… You’re so  _ good _ .”

The Bosmer’s head fell back against the pillow. Her eyes were scrunched shut and her breathing was shallow.

“Right there? It feels that good?” He loved hearing her affirm whatever she said in her lust-filled haze. But he would not tell her that. Rather, he enjoyed her genuine exclamations of pleasure and pushing her to say more. She snapped her head up and looked him in the eye. Her pitch-black eyes always commanded his attention.

“Gods, yes!  _ You  _ feel that good, so please don’t  _ stop _ .”

Pride swelled in his chest, and he sped up his pace. He drove into her harder and faster, and her pussy gripped him tighter. She curled in on herself and buried her face into his shoulder.

“Marcurio, close—!”

“Then cum. Nothing’s stopping you, love.”

The loud smack of his hips against her ass satisfied him. Broken whines and moans escaped her as she tightened her grip on his neck. He felt her orgasm building through the pressure on his dick. He felt his own pleasure building and urging him to go faster, but he kept his pace steady. Her calves pushed in on his shoulders and she tightened sinfully around him.

His name fell from her lips continually as she spasmed beneath him. He grunted, continuing to fuck her through her orgasm. Her nails dragged against his shoulders and around to his clavicle. The pressure sucking him in slowly lessened, and she panted in exhaustion.

“You fucking  _ Daedra _ ,” she spat. A grin spread across his face as he thrusted into her. He stopped and waited. He had her pinned to the bed with his hands and hips. She pushed at his chest and leaned back to look at him. “Why are you like this?”

“What’s wrong? I thought I was doing  _ so good _ . I was doing good enough for you to ask me not to stop.  _ And  _ to make you cum,” he teased. Her eyes narrowed at him. He loved her when she was like this too: more pointy edges and harsh words.

“... Just keep going, you asshole.”


	15. Gender Neutral DB/Gelebor - Freebie?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gelebor and the Dragonborn have some things to talk about, but that can wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not having a clear kink for this chapter. I kept cycling through ideas and ended up not liking any of them. I settled on something fluffier this time. Anyways, thanks for reading!

The Chantry was typically quiet, being that Knight-Paladin Gelebor was the only sentient being there most of the time. Vyrthur was dead, thanks to the Dragonborn. But recently, they had been dropping by frequently to help him rebuild the Chantry. The two got much more work done together than he typically got done alone. They would spend multiple days there before going back to Auri-El-knew-where and doing Dragonborn things. He hated when they were away but understood the obligation to responsibility. 

Now, the two were in the Inner Sanctum, clear across the building from the area where Vyrthur was laid to rest. It was Gelebor’s bedchamber, one of the few left intact from the collapsing of the Sanctum over time. A fire roared in the small hearth. The Dragonborn had removed their armor in favor of their tunic and leggings, and Gelebor felt their eyes on him as he removed his own armor. Soon, he matched them in their armorless state. He sat next to them, pressing his thigh against theirs. They laid their head against his shoulder.

“I wanted to thank you again for continuing to help me rebuild the Chantry. Things would be moving along much slower without you.”

They shrugged against him, scooting closer. “I want to be here. Plus, it means a lot to you…” They trailed off. He knew what they wanted to say.

_ It means a lot to you, and you mean a lot to me. _

His arm snaked around their waist and pulled them closer. It warmed his heart to have them there with him when they took time out of being the Dragonborn and saving the world time and time again. The thought of asking them to stay always lingered in the back of his mind. But he could not leave the Chantry, and they could not stay. 

But that did not mean he could not make the most of the time they spent with him.

He turned his head towards them, and they were already looking up at him. They leaned up and pecked a kiss to his lips. It was light, sweet, and fleeting. Just like his Dragonborn. When they went to pull away, he leaned in closer and kissed them again. And again, and again. They opened their arms and drew their arms around his neck. They pushed at him with their body, and he leaned back. They straddled him, grinding their rear against his crotch.

He groaned into their mouth. Their hands came to his chest and roamed. Their hips pressed harder into him.

“I wish I could ask you to never leave,” he murmured against their lips. They frowned for a moment before continuing to pepper kisses along his mouth.

They sat back on his lap and rocked against him. “. . . I don’t want to leave either. You know that.” They slipped their hands beneath his tunic. “The dragon crisis is over, but the civil war is not. Even after that, I can’t predict what will happen if the Dragonborn disappears.”

Gelebor rotated his hips up into them. The gasp that left their lips caused his blood to rush south. His hands traveled along their thighs and hips. “I know… You have all of my  _ malae _ , my affection. I love you.”

They stared down at him, eyes wide. He propped himself up on a forearm and pushed himself up. “I love you so much, to the moons and back.” He punctuated his statement with a kiss. Hands slid over their sides and to their chest. He kissed them in their stunned haze. He turned his attention to their cheek and neck.

“I love you too, Gelebor. I…” A sigh ghosted over the shell of his ear. He rolled them both over, laying them on their back. 

“We can talk about it later, love. But for now, I want to enjoy you while you're here.”


	16. Fem!Altmer DB/Sam Guevenne (also Sanguine) - Horn Grabbing, Hair Pulling, Drunk Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belyndri gets caught up in a drinking contest with Sam Guevenne and forfeits before she gets too drunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I wanted to make this chapter longer, but I wanted to use more than 3 or 4 kinks for it. So I'm breaking it up into 2 parts, and the other part will be tomorrow's chapter! Thanks for reading!

_ “I c’n drink you under th’ table!” the Altmer cried. Her face was painted a ruddy yellow by the blush spanning her cheeks. The sleeves of her powder blue robes were rolled up to her elbows. A smile plastered itself to her lips as she leaned towards the robed Breton on the stool next to her. The man also sported a slight blush and a smile. _

_ “‘S that so? How ‘bout one more drink then? Stronger than the last one!” He handed her a tankard to punctuate his statement. She snatched it from him and downed the warm liquid. It made her mouth tingle and her insides burn. When she slammed the tankard against the counter, he had another ready. She wondered where he got all of the alcohol from. _

_ “No, no more,” she refused it with a laugh. “I wanna remember t’night.” _

_ Sam Guevenne arched a brow at her. “You want… to stop?” _

_ “Yeah,” she leaned in further, “I’ve got other ideas on how t’ spend th’ night.” _

  
  


Belyndri had slurred her desires into his ear over lukewarm tankards of wine and the feeling of the hot skin of his face against her mouth. No one had even noticed them as they disappeared into a purple and black portal in the middle of the room. Even she paid little attention to it as he took her hand and pulled her into it. They stepped out into a dark grove lined with lanterns and sweet-scented flowers.

“Whoa,” she breathed in amazement. Her eyes drifted from the low-hanging cliffs to the tiny rovers to a larger point of light around a bend. He glanced at her over his shoulder, his smile even wider than before.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? You could almost call it my own realm of Oblivion.”

Her brows furrowed. Something told her that she should be more careful with this man named Sam Guevenne, but the alcohol in her system fuddled her thoughts. They rounded the corner and a table came into view. There were a handful of men standing about and drinking. When the two came into view, they shouted their happiness at the two.

“Welcome back, Lord Sanguine!”

The hand holding hers was different now. Larger, wider,  _ hotter _ , and covered in metal. She traced the Daedric gauntlet up to the chestplate and then to his face. His skin was darker than any Dunmer she had ever seen. The red markings over his eyes were nothing like any warpaint she had ever seen. And the horns atop his head…

“Sanguine,” she murmured in shock and awe. A predatory smile spread on the Daedra’s face as he looked at her. He abandoned her hand to scoop her up into his arms. She gasped and placed her hands on the front of his pauldrons for leverage.

“Neat little trick, isn’t it? I enjoy the mortal plane more than my own, sometimes. People like you make it so  _ fun _ .”

Belyndri stared down at him, still amazed. His transformation brought on a short period of sobriety, but she still gaped at him before finding words. “You… were Sam Guevenne, and I told you…”

“That you wanted to remember tonight for a  _ myriad  _ of reasons. The most specific being  _ me _ . Does my current form change that?”

The Altmer searched his face. He was still smiling and still reminded her of the Breton that she met in the inn. He would still drink with her and smile at her and hold her. If the only thing that had changed was his physical appearance, then why would she care? 

“No… it doesn’t.”

“In that case.” He snapped his fingers, and she felt cool air and hot hands caress her bare back. Her legs pressed into cold stone. Calloused hands roamed over her skin, and his mouth captured hers. She pushed into the kiss and kneaded her fingers against his shoulders. The slight haze surrounding her thoughts fueled her desire to explore his mouth. She nipped and licked at his lower lip.

“Someone’s eager,” he grinned up at her. “Not that I mind, of course. I would rather you be excited for it than not—”

She took one horn in either hand, holding his head in place. Rolling her hips, she slid herself against his length. His grin faltered. Fingernails dug into her back. 

“Then I suppose I’ll shut up for now. But before that, another trick.” He stood from his throne, taking her with him. Her legs wrapped instinctively around his back as he walked them the few steps to the table. He lowered her rear onto the table, and she let him go. He kissed her again. This time, her head swam as though she drank another bottle of wine. Her grip on his horns tightened.

“ _ What in Oblivion… _ ” A finger slid along her slit, and she trembled beneath his hand. The head of his cock replaced his finger. He guided it with one hand while using the other to grab a fistful of her hair. She looked up into his eyes and saw that they were still scrunched in a smile.

“I suppose I’m just  _ full  _ of tricks these days.” He pressed himself into her entrance and eased himself in when she gave. She whimpered and tilted her head back when he tugged at her hair. Sanguine rocked himself against her as he nipped and kissed at her neck. A smile curled his lips when she moaned against his ear.

Thoughts came to her mind much slower than before. But the way his cock filled her felt even better than she thought it would have. He stretched her just to the point of pain, and her nerves sang at the contact between them. She kissed him as the hand in her hair tightened its grip. She exhaled sharply and tilted her head back.

“I imagine you’ll have a little trouble remembering this tomorrow,” he leaned down and kissed her again. “But for now, let’s enjoy ourselves.”


	17. Fem!Altmer DB/Sam Guevenne (also Sanguine) - Voyeurism, Edgeplay, Sensory Deprivation, Breast Worship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanguine and Belyndri continue their escapades from last chapter - with more kinks!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks for bearing with me on a 2-chapter scene. I found that I liked it more this way (sectioning it off) than having it all at once. Anyway, thanks for reading!

Quiet gasps from and the faces of the revelers around the table swam in her head. Belyndri’s eyes wandered over the men when a broad hand slid behind and cradled her head. Sanguine’s piercing eyes and sly smile came into view. He thrusted at a slow enough pace that she had time to process what was happening.

“Ah-ah-ah. They’re just here to enjoy the show and potentially assist. Keep your eyes here,” he motioned to himself, “anywhere here, really, and we’ll be fine.”

She nodded in understanding, her eyes wandering over his face and chest. She found it hard to focus on him with the thought of the others behind them gawking at them. Her hands shifted on his horns, and she felt him nip at her chin.

“. . . If I look?”

He tilted his head in thought. Her thumbs rubbing against his horns kept her grounded enough to listen to him. “I think I’ll have to punish you. What that punishment will be… is something you’ll find out if you do it.”

“Can you blindfold me?”

The question brought a light to his eyes. The hand beneath her head slid away, lying her back against the table. A dark, soft-looking bit of fabric appeared in his hand. She lifted her head just far enough for him to cover her eyes with the fabric and tie it behind her head. Thumbs pressed to the sides of her face and drew shapes along the fabric. The words that fell from his lips were not Tamrielic or Aldmeris or even recognizable to her. He rutted into her once, twice, and resumed his slow pace from before. She could still feel the others’ eyes taking them in, but without the option to look at them, she found it easier to not think about.

Sanguine’s mouth connected with hers in a short-lived embrace. Then he went to her cheek. Then her chin. The heat made her writhe against him. He claimed her neck with a string of wet kisses. His name hung on her lips when he rutted into her faster.

“Hmm? What’s that?” he purred against her collarbone. His mouth drifted lower and back arched until he nipped at her sternum. “Did you say something?” His right hand left her face to palm her breast. He nudged the nipple of the left one with his nose. She felt the slow  _ inhale, exhale  _ of his breath on her skin. His other hand retreated from her face. Brelyndri missed the contact until his fingers pressed between her legs. A string of words mixed with a surprised moan. His tongue traced her areola as her nipple hardened.

“Struggling, hmm?” His voice bounced around in her head. “I do love how talkative you all can be. But you,” he was in her ear, but she still felt his mouth on her breast. “You are the most fun I’ve had in a  _ long _ time, Dragonborn.” Her grip was constantly shifting on his horns. He bucked into her from the sensation when her nails dug into them. 

She had no idea how he knew what she was, but it was the least of her concerns at the moment. His teeth pressing in around her nipple and fingers circling her clit brought her back to the physical. His thumb pressed into her right nipple and massaged the tender skin. His strokes stayed slow as her pleasure continued to build. His name and various words in Aldmeris fell from her tongue. 

He kissed the skin of her breast as she grew closer and closer to her orgasm. She wondered absentmindedly how many mortals he had treated the same way, but it was hard for her to keep her thoughts in order. The sound and feeling of his breath, his cock within her, and tongue on her body brought too many pleasant sensations.

“Sanguine.” Her voice was broken and tired. From the way she tightened around him and tried to grind into his hip, she figured he knew she was close. But something was urging her to say it aloud.

“I know” was all he said. As she clamped down on him harder, he drove into her faster. She held on to him as well as she could. The wave built, rising higher and higher. Her toes curled as she anticipated the crash.

And then it was gone. 

His mouth, his length, even his horns were torn away from her. She growled indignantly and heard his laughter drifting to her ears. “You thought it was that simple? That the Daedric Prince of Debauchery would let you finish whenever you want?” His body came back to hers, and his mouth hovered over hers.

  
“A nice thought, but incorrect. But I can promise you’ll be happy when you  _ do  _ cum.”


	18. Fem!Breton DB/Geldis Sadri - Sir/Daddy Kink, Piercings and Tattoos, Sleepy Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geldis and Cherinia close the Retching Netch for a day off and sleep in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was requested by Beth, and I really enjoyed writing it! I used a little more Dunmeris in this chapter and wanted to clarify some terms.
> 
> Dayn juli - Good morning  
> Yi daelha - My love  
> Ser - An informal and personal version of sera, an honorific used for someone they are allied with  
> Merdekhes - Beautiful
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!!

Typically, the Retching Netch was open to hungry patrons until the late evening and to the tired and weary all hours of the day and night. Geldis Sadri could be found lounging behind the bar, marketing his sujamma, matze, and any other perishable he had in stock for the day. There were usually patrons milling about and sipping on their drinks. But today, as the early morning sun rose over Raven Rock, there were no patrons. Geldis was still in bed and was taking a much needed day to himself. The warmth of the blanket and sheets kept him floating in and out of slumber. He rolled onto his side and was met with flesh pressing to his.

He was still getting accustomed to the days that he awoke to Cherinia in their bed. Typically, she was out assisting the people of Skyrim, but recently she had made a point to stay on Solstheim. She helped out around Raven Rock and in the Skaal village. The mines were open again, the plot against Councilor Morvayn had been foiled, and the Skaal were faring better than they had been since… he could not remember since when, but they  _ were  _ better. He tucked her head beneath his chin and played at the curve of her waist with his fingertips.

She stirred, a groan sending vibrations through her back and to his chest. He hummed in response. His arm inched further, and he splayed his fingers over the expanse of her stomach. The Breton wiggled against him. She turned her head and rested her cheek on his collarbone. Her barely pointed ear pressed to the bottom of his neck. Cool hoops of metal quickly warmed against his skin.

“ _ Dayn juli _ ,” he greeted. The Dunmeris was little more than a rumble in his chest with the sleep in his voice. She hummed the greeting back at him. He enjoyed the sparse softness of her body as she struggled to wake up. His fingers ambled up her abdomen and traced along her sternum. The sleepy giggle he got from her made him smile.

“So handsy this early…” she mumbled against him. His fingers ghosted over a single breast and stopped at the peak. A bar protruded from the soft skin. It always surprised him how much her body modifications told of her Reachwoman history. Permanent inkings of their Old Gods lined her back and shoulders and curled around her sides. Her ears were lined with gold rings. And the nipple beneath his fingers sported a gold bar punctuated on each side with ball bearings. 

“Because I’ve missed you,” he murmured in response. “‘S nice having people in the Netch all the time, thanks to you… But they aren’t you. And we don’t get a day to ourselves often.”

Cherinia nodded weakly in agreement. She turned her head further and her back arched. The cleft of her ass cradled his semi-hard cock. He groaned at how the forgiving plush of her body invited him. Her hand took the hand at her breast and guided it to her center. Thin fingers delved between her legs and massaged her lips. She nudged at his chin. Geldis looked down to her and was met with a gentle kiss to his chin. He captured her mouth and lavished quick pecks against her lips. She pushed up into the kisses, holding his lips to hers longer. His free hand snaked beneath her to fondle her untouched breast.

The slick slowly coating his fingers allowed him to prod at her lips and request entrance. Her whole body tensed when the first joint of his finger slid into her. Then she relaxed as his fingers slid in to the knuckle. She rocked against his hand, his length continuing to harden against her.

“ _ Yi daelha _ .” He called her attention to his words with the term of endearment. She kissed him once more before answering.

“Yes,  _ ser _ ?” His length throbbed at the honorific. She only used something so intimate in private. But even the times she addressed him with  _ sera  _ in public had him biding his time until they were alone. His finger slid in to the second knuckle and curled into the patch of sensitive nerves inside of her. Rutting against her backside, he whispered against her mouth. 

“How does that feel?” When Cherinia began to speak, another finger joined his first. They pumped in and out of her at a slow pace, rubbing against the spot that made her squirm. Geldis’ other hand palmed at her breast and pinched her nipple. She purred happily into his skin.

“Wonderful,  _ ser _ . But… I’d prefer something else.” She nipped at his lip before kissing the tender skin. Her ass slid down his length and back up again. She knew how to wind him up and bend just enough to encourage him. He hummed against her mouth, returning her peppered kisses.

“Please,  _ sera _ ?” she insisted. He slipped his fingers from inside her and replaced the hand between her legs with the shaft of his penis. His mind was still clouded with sleep, but the heady mist of lust descended as well. He held his cock in place with his damp hand. She rolled her hips against him, coating the top side of his length. He nudged her face with his nose, and she turned her head. He kissed along the shell of her ear and bit gently at one of the gold hoops.

“How badly do you want me?” Geldis growled in a hushed tone. “I want you to say it.” 

“I want you to use my slit and fill me to the brim. I want to be heavy with your child from how much you fill me with.”

Geldis quickly aligned his head with her opening. He rolled his hips up into her and plunged into her snatch. She arched against him, her lips curling around a gasp. He grazed his lips along her ear and down to the junction between her neck and head. He frowned at the blanket covering them. He flung it down to their feet, exposing their bodies to the warm, dry air.

She pinched at her pierced nipple as he swirled the other. He brought his slick fingers to her mouth. She opened her mouth and took them in. Her tongue sucking her essence from his fingers made him buck into her. Her resulting moan vibrated against his fingers. He pulled out slowly and thrusted into her as deep as he could go. The hot flesh of her walls contracted around him. His dickhead pressed into her cervix when he bottomed out in her.

“You feel so  _ good, ser _ ,” Cherinia cooed when he removed his fingers. He picked up his pace, driving into her faster. He gripped her hip and ran his thumb over the gentle indentations of her tattoos. Her heat drew him back in every time he pulled away. 

“Touch yourself,  _ daelha _ , I want to come together,” he rasped into her ear. He felt her contract around him again when her fingers went to her core. She raised a leg and leaned it back towards him. The Dunmer watched her work herself and drilled into her faster. He grunted against her skin. He could smell her arousal, and it added to the pool of heat within him.

“ _ Merdekhes _ ,” he groaned. She hummed up at the compliment, a smile on her face.

“I… love you, Geldis.” She struggled to get the words out, but none of the sentiment was lost. He kissed her neck as he slammed into her.

“I love… you too, Cherinia,” he huffed between thrusts. She tightened around him, pushing him further and further to his orgasm. She moaned, pressing her back into him. “I’m… getting close…” he grunted into her neck.

“Me  _ too _ .” Her voice rose an octave as he fucked her harder. He pinched the peak of her breast and relished in the yelp that came from her lips. The hand on her hip pulled her back and angled her. He ground against the spot he massaged earlier and she tensed against him.

“Oh,  _ gods,  _ Geldis, fuck!” Her fingers circled her clit faster. He rammed into her until his hips started to stutter. He muttered broken Dunmeris and Tamrielic until he found his voice again.

“ _ Coming _ !”

He slammed into her one last time and shot hot seed against her cervix. The sensation pushed Cherinia over the edge, and she contracted one last time before spasming on his length. Her arms and legs trembled as he throbbed inside of her. He came down before her and stroked her hip and thigh. When she relaxed, he kissed the side of her head. Silence enveloped them for a few moments until Geldis broke it.

“. . . Were you serious? About the child thing?”

“Of course I was.” She tilted her head and kissed him. “If you think you’re ready.”

His heart swelled at the confirmation as he hugged her close to him. “Think you’ll be ready for a round two soon?”


	19. Fem DB/Tsun - Distention, Stuffed, Slight Power Dynamics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dovahkiin defeated Alduin nearly two decades ago. Tsun has waited to see her since then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vague Dragonborn for the win! Two thirds of the way through and I'm finally running out of ideas. I end up scrapping a lot of potential chapters because I think "how the hell would I even do that?" But I think after this whole project is done, I'll be writing some more one-shots with some characters from here, maybe after these moments or during other situations? Anyway, thanks for reading!!

_ Alduin was dead. _

_ As sure as the Clear Skies shout removed the haze set over Sovngarde, the Dragonborn slayed the ancient beast. The heroes had helped her, of course. But with her straining muscles, low stamina, and depleted magicka, she was forced to stop and take a few breaths as the last of the great obsidian dragon’s spirit was called by Akatosh, or Arkay, or whatever force pulled him from the spirits’ realm. When she had caught her breath, she finally registered the deep voice addressing her. _

_ “This was a mighty deed! The doom of Alduin encompassed at last, and cleansed is Sovngarde of his evil snare. They will sing of this battle in Shor’s hall forever.” _

_ Tsun, the mighty guarding god, commended her for her act and eventually asked if she were ready to return to Nirn. Her eyes wandered over his chiseled physique and wondered at his insurmountable height. She had eyed him since she approached the bridge. A knowing smirk quirked his lips. _

_ “But your fate lies elsewhere. When you have completed your count of days, I may welcome you again, with glad friendship, and bid you join the blessed feasting. When you are ready to rejoin the living, just bid me so, and I will send you back.” _

_ There is a pause and a deflating of the Dragonborn’s heart. _

_ “I am ready to leave.” _

_ “Return now to Nirn, with this rich boon from Shor, my lord: a Shout to bring a hero from Sovngarde in your hour of need. And when you return to Sovngarde, seek me out. I wish to welcome you back  _ personally _.” _

_ The Dragonborn gaped at him in surprise as his Thu’um overtook her spirit and sent it back to Nirn. _

  
  


That had been nearly twenty years ago. The Dragonborn lived her life, almost reaching the age of forty. She killed Miraak and put down all of the dragon priests. She assisted the people of Skyrim and Solstheim; became the leader of the Companions and cured herself of lycanthropy; and became the leader of the College of Winterhold. Though whenever she was confronted with situations where she would be forced to pledge her soul to a realm of Oblivion or Sithis in the Void, she refused. Slowly, she ensured that her soul would be sent to Sovngarde.

And sent to Sovngarde it was.

She hiked up the winding hills in her ethereal body, still covered in her Dragonbone armor and with ethereal replicas of her favorite weapons on her person. She vaguely remembered the stone path leading from the “entrance” to the bridge. Without a shouting dragon and thick fog obscuring her vision, it was much easier to enjoy the scenery as she supposed she was intended to.

When the bridge came into view, she saw the tiny speck she knew was the great trial god. She trotted the rest of the way to the bone bridge. When she reached the bridge, she approached the towering man. A smile quirked his lips.

“Congratulations on reaching us again, Dragonborn. The heroes of old are awaiting your return in the hall beyond the bridge,” he commended. She let her eyes wander over his face, chest, and arms. To say that he was a broad man was an understatement. His palms were vast and fingers thick, fitting for the weapon he sported. His biceps were thicker than her head. Had he wanted in their first tussle, he probably could have picked her up and flung her by her legs. His chest rose and fell with every breath he took. She wanted, no,  _ desired _ to lay her cheek against it and listen to his steady heartbeat, if there was one. And his face. Kind eyes held her gaze when she finally decided to return her attention to them. 

“But I imagine that isn’t why you stopped here on your way in.” His tone was pleasant and knowing. Had he been expecting her all this time? Watching and waiting for the Dragonborn’s eventual defeat?

It felt bittersweet.

He motioned her forward with an upward tilt of his chin. The Dragonborn took to the cinches and straps of her armor. She made quick work of the pieces and let them dissipate as they fell to the ground. Her helmet went first. Then her gauntlets, chest piece, boots, and breeches followed. Her leggings and tunic were the last things left. The sensation of his eyes following her every move made her want, badly, to hurry. 

“There is no rush, Dragonborn.”

Of course. Eternity in the afterlife and all that.

Her lips curled at his easy tone. When she approached him, she noted how her head barely cleared his nipples. One thick arm curled around her body. His fingers hooked into her loose leggings and pulled them down and over her ass. She shimmied from her clothing as his hand palmed her rear. The heat of his skin seeped through her smallclothes. His fingers dug into her skin as he gripped her and lifted her in his grasp.

When she was eye level with the god, his free arm guided one of her hands to the back of his neck. Her other joined it, and she hooked her ankles together around his back. She relaxed into his hold when she was secure.

“So you waited this whole time?” She found the idea preposterous. A finger brushed flyaway hairs behind her ear. A shiver ran up and down her spine at the idea of the digit working her from the inside. She was sure the slight blush that colored her cheeks gave away the inclination of her thoughts.

“Not everyone who approaches is worthy. You gave me a thrill battle in that I had not felt in years…” he trailed off and pressed a soft kiss to her temple. The scratch of his beard against her skin tickled. Her heat hung just below the belt of his armor, and she could feel the tell-tale rise of his member beneath the furs. He pecked kisses along the curve of her face until he reached her cheek. When he pulled away, he eyed her lips unabashedly.

The Dragonborn closed the short distance between her lips and his. His skin was rough, and he guided the embrace with a little sleight of hand. The sheer size of his body compared to hers gave him the physical advantage. Tsun eased his tongue against her mouth as each hand squeezed one of her cheeks. She rocked against him, the heat between her legs seeking out his length. The push of her clothed sex against his pulled a growl from him. He kneaded her skin in his hands and pressed her closer.

“Though I doubted that you would be so eager,” he admitted between kisses. She felt the head of his cock prod her slit through his furs and her smallclothes. Her fingers played at the torc about his neck. 

“I believe I would have been a fool not to be eager.” Her retort made him chuckle. He balanced her in one hand when one left her to adjust the skirt of his armor. His cock, now free, nudged at her through the thin fabric of her underwear. She could feel the wet spot growing but did little to hide her arousal. She flexed her thighs and used her leverage on him to grind against the head. The hiss of breath against her mouth brought her a small amount of satisfaction. He slipped one digit into the crotch of her smallclothes and pulled it to the side. She had expected a finger or even his tongue roaming over her body before the head of his dick applied pressure to her naked entrance. 

“What, no more teasing?” Her voice was pitched higher despite her efforts to keep it steady. Instead of guiding his cock to her, he guided her along the head. Her arousal quickly coated the tip and glans. “I would think you were the eager one…”

“I would not deny it. But you must understand, little one,” he paused and parted her lips with the head. It stretched her wonderfully, and her mind swam with the idea of the rest of him rearranging her insides. “Twenty years is a long time for even a patient god to wait.”

She rolled her hips atop him. She sank down a couple of inches past the head, and she was already gasping at his girth. He thrusted into her shallowly and nipped at the soft skin of her neck. He grazed against the bundle of nerves within her. The guard gave a satisfied sigh as she grew accustomed to him and he was able to push further. A few more inches entered her, and she already felt filled with him. The Dragonborn went to pull herself up and ride him, but the hand on her ass gripped tight enough to stop her.

Tsun’s gaze pierced her when he pulled away from her neck. It held her in place and rolled his hips against her. Another inch, and her brain was clouded with thoughts of her bursting.

“Almost there.” His whisper was sweet, like a hand caressing her hair. She slid down the last inch of his length, and the lips of her cunt found the base. She looked down at their joining and noticed her navel and the skin around it was raised, pressed upwards by his rod. She released a breath she had not known she was holding. He kept them still, likely to let her adjust to him further before moving again. He rubbed all of the right spots without even thrusting into her. She let her forehead rest against his cheek as she caught her breath. Any movement she made painted stars behind her eyelids and wound her tighter and tighter.

When her breathing was steady, he slid her off of him to the head and sheathed himself within her again. He worked up a slow pace, and the friction wrenched moans from the Dragonborn’s mouth. She felt her juices coating his entire length, making his muscle glide within her. She contracted against him and was met with a smile.

“So the Dovahkiin enjoys being used as a fucktoy,” he grunted at a particularly quick and rough thrust, “and she may cum soon from it.” She struggled to just nod against him. The press of him into her belly and his grinding against all of her spots sent her head spinning. His nose pressed to the side of her head.

“Then cum, if you so wish. But I will not stop.”

He fucked her harder, keeping a slow pace as he pounded into her. Her moans evolved into incoherent strings of mumbled words against his skin. He felt far too good inside her for her to ignore the pull of ecstasy any longer.

“Hnn, close, cum _ ming _ — _ Tsun _ !”

Her pussy clamped down on his length as he continued fucking into her. Hot sparks danced over her body as it tensed, and her vision blurred from the continuous stimulation. Her thighs squeezed his sides, and the fingers holding the torc at his neck turned white with her grip. She gushed around him. Half of the evidence of her orgasm dripped to the ground, the other half clinging to her and her partner’s skin. Words were lost on her as his cock turned her into a mewling mess.

She panted as her walls relaxed around him. He kissed the side of her head, still lifting her off of and bringing her back down onto his cock. Her mind was cloudy when she murmured against his neck.

“More, please.”

She heard the pride in his voice when he replied. “As you wish.”


	20. Fem DB/Ronthil - Femdom, Cock Warming, Praise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new lady of Castle Volkihar puts Ronthil in a tricky situation when he has to keep himself in check

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read a fic a little bit ago where Ronthil is eagar to please in all aspects, and I wanted to try writing him with a kink that would play on that. Thanks for reading!

“Ma’am.”

There is an absent-minded hum from in front of him. He wriggles at the weight in his lap, and he feels his cock shift within his mistress’ cunt. He bites back a moan and claws at the arms of the chair he is in. She is on his lap and facing away from him. She holds a feather quill in her right hand and uses her left one to hold down a sheet of parchment. Her hand stills.

“Have you been given permission to move?”

He sucks in a breath and tries to relax into the plush furniture. “No… No, ma’am.”

“Then sit still. I’m almost done with the last letter.”

She resumes her writing. Despite how collected she is, Ronthil is a mess beneath her. He clenches his fists and tries his hardest to still himself. He can feel every undead nerve in his body shouting for release. He eyes her body over her shoulder. Her full breasts block his view of most of her body. Her nipples are pebbled and the pinched skin calls his name. He lets his eyes wander downward to follow the curve of her thighs. His fingers twitch with the urge to touch her. He had always so ready to please, to be of use to someone, _anyone_.

When Harkon was defeated and the court passed to the successor, the Bosmer had worried he would be cast out into the world. The other vampires always threatened to do so, and if they influenced their lady, he had been sure they would convince her to do it. But the moment the higher-ranking vampires had suggested it, she brought it up to him. She gave him three choices: to flee the castle; to stay in the position he was in; or to become her pet, drink when she drank, and sleep in her chambers.

The last option piqued his curiosity and created a tent in his trousers.

He mentally thanks their Maker that she is already signing her name at the bottom of the letter. She takes her time folding it once and then again. Her hand reaches for one of the lit candles on the desk, and the tiny shift of her waist pulls a low groan from him. His toes curl; the muscles in his thighs tighten. He wishes her hand was around his neck or pumping his length. Ronthil thought himself a patient mer, but his mistress knows him too well. He could handle the movements if she were using him to chase her own pleasure. But this? Her slit is still warmer than most of her body and remained cushy after the transformation. She is wet and hot all over him.

He watches her as the wax hardens. Then she retrieves a seal and stamps the solidifying wax with it. It seems like it takes ages for her to just sit the damned thing down.

“Now, my sweet Ronthil.” His ears perk at the way her mouth forms his name. She rolls the R, and his heart stutters. His mouth is dry, and his tongue feels like it weighs more than a mammoth. He swallows and takes a deep breath.

“Yes, mistress?”

She leans back against his right shoulder and nudges his cheek with hers. His eyes cast down to the now visible expanse of her abdomen. Her navel and mound were finally in his line of sight. He tamps out the urge to place his hands on her and caress and hold her. “Sweet, wonderful, obedient Ronthil… You’ve tried to be rather patient, have you not?” He nodded quickly.

“Waiting for me to finish my work even with your dick in me. You only moved twice, too. You did a great job.” 

“Thank you, mistress.” His voice is barely a whisper compared to her clear, confident one.

She turns her head and tilts it to press her mouth to his ear. Her breath caresses the shell, and the sensation rockets to his penis. He cannot stop himself from twitching inside her. She nips at the curve with a single fang.

“I believe you deserve a reward.” 

His hands are fists once again. Whatever she has in mind, he will accept. She could get off of him and tell him to watch her drive herself to an orgasm. Or fuck herself onto him and leave him whenever she felt like. Anything, so long as she is happy. His own pleasure becomes secondary when hers is a possibility.

“Would you like to watch me touch myself and feel me cum on your prick?”

His inner self trembles in anticipation. That was more than he could ever ask for, and he would be a fool to not accept.

“Yes, please, mistress.”

She lifts her legs and motions for him to move. His hands go to cradle the underside of her thighs, holding them open and her closer to him. He knows she prefers this position, both of them sitting up to watch. He can smell the scent of her soap in her hair and, blessedly, her arousal from her core. His eyes snap to her hand as it wanders over her stomach and down to her heat.

“Always so attentive,” she sighs into his ear. He feels her tighten around his length when she brushes against her clit. It is blissful and teasing to his nerves. “The perfect pet.”

She calls him that often, but it never loses its meaning. “Uhm…” Her walls flutter around him as she works herself, but he keeps himself still so as to not disturb her. "Mistress?”

Her response is half groan, half moan against his skin. “Yes, Ronthil?”

“May I kiss you?”

The curving of her lips indicates he has her intrigued. “You may.”

She lifts her head as he turns to her. The first embrace is gentle and pensive. Then he applies more pressure, and she returns it. Her tongue finds the seam of his lips, and he quickly parts them to allow entrance. Her tongue claims his and draws it out of his mouth and into her own. He throbs again in her snatch, and he groans.

She tightens around him again as he swallows her moans. He has watched her drive herself to the edge, has _driven_ her to the edge so many times that he knows the signs. When her thighs clench, he can feel her squeezing him tighter. Her next moan is keening and vibrates his chest. It is music to his ears. She continues to tug at his tongue as the pressure around him grows tighter. She jolts, and the friction makes them both moan into one another’s mouth. 

Her legs tremble in his hands as she tips herself over the edge. The pressure around him turns to pulsing flutters. She leaks around him, and he feels the warm slick between his thighs. When her quick breaths slow to a semblance of normal breathing, he withdraws his tongue from her mouth. He kissed her lips as she pants.

“Thank you, mistress.”

She gives a breathy laugh and collects herself after a few moments.

“You’re welcome. Now, let’s get to the bed so we can take care of you.”


	21. Male!Nord!Talos-Worshipping DB/Elenwen - Hate Sex, Insults

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elenwen and the Dragonborn have been searching for one another for a while. What they do when they find one another is not what either of them expects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written hate sex scenes before, but I sorta liked how this turned out! After this project, I think there's going to be a string of longer projects that expound on some of the characters (finally, with backstory!). I'm also accepting suggestions if there are couples or kinks that anyone wants to see specifically. Anyways, thanks for reading!!

“Filthy, Talos-workshipping  _ scum _ . I’ll have your head when this is over!” First Emissary Elenwen snarled up at the Dragonborn. The half-smile on the Nord’s lips made her sick. He was a back-water idiot, worshipping some man with little evidence of actually ascending to the ethereal. But as his cock pounded into her, her thoughts began to swim. Her hand at her clit made her arch up into his chest. His brow furrowed with the concentration of thrusting into her, and he smirked down at her. The Amulet of Talos around his neck swung back and forth in front of her face.

“I’d like to see you try to catch me afterwards.” His accent made the hair on her arms stand on end. It was so godsdamned  _ rural  _ and harsh. But she was fascinated by the way his mouth curled around words and how his lip lifted in a sneer whenever he saw her. She had spent months just tracking him down to be within thirty yards of him. Then,  _ he  _ found  _ her _ . 

“I will man the helm of the search party  _ myself _ . We will take back Skyrim from Ulfric Stormcloak’s clutches. Someone so  _ temperamental  _ isn’t fit to run a country.”

He lowered himself from his hands to his forearms. His nose pressed into the side of her face, and she felt him breathe in deeply. He thrusted harder, his girth pressing hard against her walls. He was not as lengthy as an Altmer, but his circumference more than made up for it.

“Then make sure to leave the soldiers behind, Elf. I’d love to have you hand-delivered, preferably in a situation similar to this.” He bit the shell of her ear, pleasure bordering on the edge of pain. She hissed an Aldmeri curse at him as he released her sore skin.

“And next time, leave the stupid robes.” He turned his attention to her neck and bit at her skin. He left half-moons of teeth marks down the side of her neck and her right shoulder. “There’s too many clasps and sashes to the damned things.”

She summoned a shock spell to her free hand. “I’m inclined to electrocute you right now.”

The grin that pressed into her skin was dangerous, his teeth bared. “Then go ahead. I can’t promise I’ll be gentle when I’m pissed off. But I think that’s what you want. Plus, if you’re able to focus on casting a spell in  _ this  _ condition, color me impressed.”

She hated to admit it, but he was right. The most she could do at the moment was call the spell to her hand. Letting magicka flow into her hand and focusing on even casting a low-level spell was proved to be too much for her body. “ _ Fuck _ you,” she spat.

“I do enjoy when you get so riled up. Your pussy’s already so tight. Pretty sure it was made for this  _ Nord dick _ .”

Her eyes alighted with fury. Her, a pinnacle of Altmer perfection, made for a lowly human! She thrashed against him, and he withdrew. His length slid from her, and she hopped to her knees. The ache in her core added to her annoyance. He was already gathering up the little armor he’d worn into the embassy and moving to the window in her room.

“You blasphemous—!”

“Next time, let’s finish what we start!”

The Dragonborn threw his armor out of the open window. He gave a shout in Dovahzul, causing his body to turn a transparent silvery blue. She launched a shocks spell at him, but it flew through him and hit the wall in front of him. In the next moment, he was out the window.


	22. Fem!Nord DB/Ghorbash the Iron Hand - Body Swap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghorbash and Ryska awake to find themselves in one another's bodies and conveniently naked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not too happy with the chapter, so maybe one day I'll go back and revise it. But I'm glad I went through with it! Anyway, thanks for reading!

Ghorbash awoke in the middle of the night, bleary with sleep. He blinked a few times, trying to make sense of the dark room around him with his one good eye. He expected to find his wife Ryska’s face before his or her body tucked against his in a snuggle. Despite being a Nord and resistant to the cold, she got rather cuddly when they slept. Instead, he was greeted with a warmth at his back and gentle snoring.

_Never noticed she snored,_ he thought. He shrugged, pressing back into her. There was a twitch just behind him, on his rear. It felt an awful lot like…

He shot up, ripping the furs from the both of them. The body behind him was _not_ that of his spouse’s, but his own. He could barely make out the mottled green planes of his skin in the dark, but he could tell it was _him_ . He murmured a curse in Orcish as his body stirred. He looked down at himself and saw breasts rather than his own flat chest. A hardened feminine stomach followed up until the slope between his thighs. There was no outward organ, only a blank space of neatly shaved skin that he _knew_ as his wife’s.

After a moment of staring, he reached over and grabbed his own shoulder. He shook his body with little force. 

“Ryska.” The voice that came from his mouth was her’s, just pitched lower and lacking her accent by his natural way of speaking. 

Ryska shifted, and her eyes opened. Ghorbash noticed that his blind side was now on his left side, rather than it being on the right for his actual body. When she was conscient enough to recognize who was in front of her, her eyes went wide. She scrambled to sit up and search her body. Broad, green hands followed the Orc’s chest, down to the stomach. She stopped just above the crotch and shared a bewildered look with him.

“What in the gods’ names is going on?” she huffed. His deep voice followed her curling accent. So that’s what he could sound like if he spoke like a Nord… “You woke up in my body? What the hell did we do?” She leaned back on her forearms, propping her shoulders up against the short headboard.

“I really don’t know. We don’t know how we got like this in the first place.” He sighed and sat on his haunches. He felt weird and light compared to how he typically felt. He had studied and worshipped her body before, but he had no idea how different their bodies were. He focused on the thin fingers that he often watched carrying a blade or in his own grasp. It was odd seeing his own arm reach out and pull him to his body. He did that to her whenever she was lost in her own thoughts. As though testing something, she pulled him up and sat him on her lower abdomen. He was only inches from her crotch, one leg on either side of her stomach. The toothy grin she gave him made the tusks jutting from her mouth glitter. 

“Now that you’re big and strong, you treat me like a doll,” he chuckled. Her smile turned into a smirk.

“I am _very_ interested in how _this_ would work.” She rolled her hips up into him, and the groan that rumbled in her chest made his core throb. He understood little on how it all worked, but the feeling of arousal was clear. Ghorbash experimentally brought a hand up to his left breast and fondled it. The firm tissue formed to the press of his fingers. One of his fingertips found the nipple, and his nerves alighted at the sensation. Ryska brought a hand to the other breast and pinched at the other nipple. He gasped and stared down at her with wide eyes.

“You think I don’t know my own body?” she teased. “How do you think I got through the nights before we got married?” Her other hand traced at his waistline, now thinner and shaped similarly to an hourglass. He was glad he trimmed his nails the day before as her nails dug into his skin. “But I have to say, I enjoy the look of you as me.”

He chortled. The noise was lighter in her body. He pushed back against her, feeling her length pressing into him. It was so _weird_. He had never understood how she felt when he did the same to her. But the way that his nerves felt like they were on fire, he assumed this was how she felt. A finger slid against his fold. His body tensed at the sudden pleasure.

“Mmm,” she hummed. The wide digit slid against his clit, and he shivered. If she was going to play him like a lute, he was not going to sit to the side and watch. He reached behind him and took her length in his hand. He gave her a confident stroke, his wrist moving in a circular motion. Her finger faltered against him.

“And I know my body as well,” he murmured back. He leaned over her, pressing their lips together. Her tusks pressed up against his mouth. They were both riled up, restless, and wriggling against one another to get the most pleasure out of the new experiences.

“Do you always feel this… need to fuck me until I pass out?” Ghorbash scoffed in response. 

He mirrored what he had seen her do time and time again. He pulled himself off of her midsection and scooted down along her body. He took her cock in his hand, unaccustomed to the girth in the smaller hand as he led it to his slit. Ryska took in a hissing breath as he rocked his hips along the head.

“Fucking ssshit.” Her head lolled back to the headboard as she groaned. He knew from experience that the sensation was one to savor. When he was finally able to relax his body and slip the head in, his whole body stilled. Even just the head slightly strained the muscles at the opening to his pussy. He moved painstakingly slowly back and forth, lowering himself onto her.

“Here.” She put one hand on one of his hips and the other at his clit. Now that he was able to focus on how he felt, Ghorbash quickly realized he felt the rest would not fit. He could not wrap his mind around how she had gotten him in before. The finger at his clit massaged him as she drew out of him. She thrust slowly up into him. With each thrust, more and more of her filled him until he sat atop her pelvis. 

“I can move… when you want me to, or you can move when you want. Or we can do both,” she offered through gritted teeth. “To be honest, I won’t last long… I didn’t know I felt this damn _good_.”

He grabbed the hand on his hip and held it. Her hand between his legs was sending all types of wonderful sparks across his body. “Won't be lasting long either.” He tucked the conversation of how she lasted so long atop him for a later time. Instead, he rolled his hips experimentally. Ryska groaned, and he repressed a moan by biting his lip. He lifted himself and came back down, wiggling against her pelvis. The next time, she met him halfway. All of his nerves tingled at the friction it created. As they worked up a rhythm, he felt her twitch inside of him.

“F _uck_ I’m close. This isn’t fair!” He only gave her a hum in response. He was close as well, but he wanted to hold out as long as possible. Watching her do as he typically did was oddly arousing. Typically she put him through her paces, lavishing attention on him until she was ready for her orgasm. The power he felt pushing her to her orgasm was dizzying.

Then she sped up both her hand and her hips. Her digit was clumsy yet extremely effective, and he thought that was because she knew her body so well. He clenched down around her, broken growls replacing the moans his throat so badly wanted to make. The sensation was becoming too much when she huffed out,

“Coming, Ghorbash, I’m coming—!”

She smacked into him before pumping warmth into him. The feeling overwhelmed him and sent him over the edge, twitching against her hand and on her cock. Ryska thrusted sloppily as she rode out her orgasm. He slumped forward onto her chest, panting hard.

“That was dirty.”

He felt the soft exhale of a laugh on the top of his head. She pulled her hand from between the two of them.

“Yeah, but it was fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, they swapped back eventually.


	23. Male!Bosmer Mage/Savos Aren - Frotting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Savos and his boyfriend Ulian have an agreement where the one who holds out the longest gets the honor of fucking the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!! It took a little longer than I thought, but I think I'm over my burnout and will try to post chapters regularly every 1-2 days. Thanks for sticking with me, and thanks for reading!!

Ulian leans over Savos, a gasp caught in his throat. One hand wanders the expanse of the Dunmer’s chest. It always amazes him how few scars the Arch-Mage has, even after the bout with Ancano. He grazes a nipple with his thumb and relishes in the soft groan he receives in response. Savos’ legs curl around the other’s middle. The Bosmer grips both of their cocks in one hand, and they both watch as the smaller mer strokes them.

“You are… eager today,” the Arch-Mage utters. Ulian ruts up against his own hand, turning his attention to the older mer’s face. Savos inhales a hissing breath. His eyes shut and his back arches away from his bed. Ulian loves being the change in the expressions in his lover’s face and watching said change. When he feels the coil of release tightening, he knows he has been gone for far too long. He makes long and deliberate strokes over their lengths.

“Only because I fucking  _ missed you _ , Savos.” The mage scrunches his nose at the apprentice’s choice of words. Ulian chuckles and leans down to pepper kisses on his chest. “I rushed to come back to the College because I was almost gone for two months.” He takes a nipple between his teeth and nibbles gently.

“Gods!” Savos’ hips buck up into his partner’s hand. The hand stills for a moment before resuming its motion. The Bosmer swirls the puckered flesh beneath his tongue. A shaking moan fills the Arch-Mage’s quarters. When he reigns his voice in, he speaks.

“You come back from… gods know  _ what _ and you want… me in your hand?” The ashen legs around Ulian’s hips tremble. The younger mer can tell they are both nearing the edge.

It’s cute, the way he avoids talking about genitals and sex. Ulian looks up Savos’ chest at him. “Yeah, if you mean I come home just to have your cock in my hand and see you cum all over yourself, then yes.” The Dunmer blushes to the tips of his ears. Oh, Ulian loves it. He nips and suckles at the skin around the nipple. “You know you can say those things around me. Even in public.  _ Especially  _ in public.”

“No—ah!” The Bosmer lays his tongue against the Arch-Mage’s sternum and licks up to his 

neck. He sucks the skin at the base of his neck, leaving a darkening, blue-gray hickey. The Daunmer’s beard brushes against his forehead. Savos gives a pitched hum at the contact. Ulian works them both faster and adds a twist to his wrist. “Fff—mmm! Ulian, slow  _ down!” _

“I don’t think I  _ will.”  _ He kisses up Savos’ neck and is barely able to reach the other’s mouth. “I want you be _ covered _ in your own cum.”

And that sends the Dark Elf over. He grips the blanket tight in his hands, willing his hips to still. They do not listen. He thrusts up into Ulian’s hand a few times before spilling over his own stomach. Ropes of spunk land and pool on his chest. The Bosmer continues to pump them both through Savos’ orgasm.

When he comes down, Savos’ breath is labored and tired. Ulian pecks a kiss to his bottom lip and smacks his hip.

“C’mon, love, roll over. I’m trynna finish inside you.”


	24. Fem!Argonian Mage/Brynjolf - Crossdressing and Light Temperature Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Milila scours most of Skyrim to find what she needs to make a special gift for Brynjolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is for Elena! I really like the idea of Brynjolf being open with kinks and Milila more than willing to try out new things. Anyway, thanks for reading!
> 
> *Note* Vakka is the Jel word for Sun.

_ “Come on, Brynjolf,” Milila beckoned. Her voice was a soft, scratchy rumble as she peered around the corner into her bedroom. Sconces holding flickering Candlelight spells lit up the bedroom and foyer. The Argonian crossed one leg over the other at the knee. “I just know you look stunning.” _

_ “This might be a little more than I bargained for… I can’t lace up this damned bodice.” The Nord stepped from behind the wall. Milila’s nostrils flared, and her eyes widened. She had hunted for days to find enough fabric to sew for his measurements. She modeled the piece after the dresses she had seen Nord women wear. The soft light flickered against the flushed skin of his bare shoulders and neck. His pectorals stretched the little emerald cotton there was over his chest. The fabric hugged his midsection loosely, and the skirts bunched at his waist and fell around his legs like a waterfall.  _

_ As she rose, Milila eyed him hungrily. “You won’t need to.” She did not mean for it to come out as a purr, but it was effective nonetheless. The color in the thief’s cheeks darkened as he smirked. _

_ “Liking the view, lass?” He cocked his hip, placing a hand on it in a brazen stance. Her tail flicked behind her as she strode to him. “I didn’t think you’d be into something like this.” _

_ She stopped before him, tracing his body with her gaze. A hardening bulge in the skirts of his dress was barely visible. “Brynjolf, my  _ vakka _ , I find it hard to dislike anything when it involves you.” Milina reached out a clawed hand to tangle her fingers in his fiery hair. Her claws scraped at his scalp lightly. “Besides, you seem rather enthused by the idea.” _

_ He leaned into her touch and sighed. “You’ve got me there. But I don’t suppose you just plan on leaving me high and dry?” he inquired suggestively.  _

_ Milila rolled her eyes, her horned brows arching. She brought up a hand with red, glowing light within her palm. She smiled when Brynjolf’s breath hitched. The Argonian curled her fingers inward, and the Nord’s feet lifted from the floor. His body, though still in his control, floated back towards the bedroom. The bulge beneath his skirts was a fully pitched tent by the time she had him on the bed. _

  
  


“F _ uck _ , love, if you keep at it like that…” Brynjolf trails off into a rumbling moan, Milila’s hands coming to his chest. She had equipped some type of fire spell from how her scaled hands warmed against him. Her tail curls around his left wrist and holds the arm down. He had propped himself up against the pillows to watch her ride him. She tilted her head as she sheathed him within her and sat lightly on his pelvis.

“What? Tell me, what will happen?” she murmurs. As she presses her chest to his, the skirts of his dress bunch up and fold between them. Her hands round to his sides. The heat lessens gradually until it dips below his own body temperature. Her cold thumbs brush over his nipples on either side. It reminds him of a cold winter with too little clothing and too much wind. Brynjolf’s muscles tense, and his flesh puckers.

“I’ll… mmm, I’ll have to fuck you until you can’t st- _ oh _ .” His train of thought halts as Milila rolls her hips and nips at his cheek. “Until you can’t ssstand.” She nudges at his cheek with her nose and hums. “Have you limping  _ all over _ Riften.”

  
“Is that  _ so?” _ She sits up and slides him halfway out of her. “Maybe I’ll just have to beat you to it.”


	25. Fem!Orc Dragonborn/Argis - Shower Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Argis accidentally walks in on Ma’loth while she is bathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry this chapter took so long, I was struggling a lot with it and just decided to finish and post it. I’m not so proud of it, but I’m hoping I can keep improving. Anyway, thanks for reading!

“Oh.”

Argis’ surprised, rumbling voice fills the washroom and echoes off of the stone walls. Ma’loth shifts her attention from the Dwarven showerhead, the water splashing against her chest. Through the steam, she can make out his hulking form near the doorway. He is bare, save for the towel held over his crotch. His few braids are undone and hanging with the rest of his hair. The pink scar tissue on his chest and arms stand out against his tanned skin. The paint on the right side of his face is smudged with sweat. His strong jaw sets as his good eye focuses on the sight of his Thane. 

She is completely naked. The water washes over her olive green-grey skin, leaving shiny tracks in their wake. Her drenched, black hair drapes over her shoulders and sticks to her back and the sides of her face. Light scars are visible along her body as well. Her eyebrows quirk at the sight of him, but she makes no other movement. 

“I apologize, I had no idea you were…” he trails off, attention obviously captured by the Orc. He turns his face away quickly as a blush rises to his cheeks. 

“Do not apologize. I will be out soon.” The corners of her mouth turn up around her tusks. The color that rises to his face reminds her of similar situations. No matter where they were, he would try his best to give her space to bathe and change. He never gives the same reaction when she merely removes her armor. But when she strips to bathe or sleep, he completely avoids laying his gaze on her. It makes teasing him about it rather easy.

“I think. I’ll just.” He glances at her as she cocks a brow. “… Gods.”

“Hmm?”

He takes a step towards her but seems to come to his senses before he gets too close. All of his muscles are tense. If Ma’loth did not know better, she would think him wound to explode. His mouth forms around whatever he means to say. Then he pauses, waits, and tries again.

“I,” he breathes out. “Uh.”

“Yes, Argis?”

He is still. Watching her. The hot rush of water coats her skin and hair anew, and she watches him back. In a moment, there is heat crawling up her legs. It battles the current of the water deftly, hanging turns and finding spaces the water struggles to touch. It pauses at the small of her back and zips around to her stomach. A feeling she does not know. An itch within her begging to be scratched.

Ma’loth steps back from the shower head and beckons Argis closer. His eyes widen in shock. In there—with her? The same heat shocks through his body, and he feels the pressure beneath the towel in his hand. It is not enough to have him fully aroused, but he knows if he joins her, he soon will be. He spends nights in his room or in his tent struggling to block out her scent from the day prior or the lightness of her laugh when he got her to chuckle at something. She is sweat and the clash of metal on metal yet something softer still. Trees in an untouched clearing and incense burning at an altar.

He takes a tentative step forward. Their eyes are locked as he discards his towel on a hook near the lip of the shower and closes the space between them. The water seeping through his hair to his scalp and splashing over his back is pleasant, but it does little to quell the heat her gaze ignites in him. Her hands are on him, one on his shoulder and the other at his chest. A gasp catches in his throat.

The sudden inhale stirs his chest against her hand. She has seen him shirtless countless times before but never touched his exposed skin. The light dusting of bright hair is soft against her palm. Her fingertips delve into the dip of his sternum and scratch gently. A grumble rumbles within his chest, but the words fall to the drain with the water and are swept away from the two. Her hands find every crevice of his skin. The hand at his shoulder plays at his collarbone and the one at his chest spans a pectoral. She only has to tilt her head up and lean forward to feel his beard against her lower lip. Though her tusks make it a little difficult to do so, she plants a kiss to his mouth.

Argis does not return the initial kiss. When she repeats the action, he presses back gently to her lips. Her tusks are smooth and solid against his mouth. An arm loosely snakes about her middle, giving her more than enough room to leave if she pleases. Her nails dig into his skin as she draws closer. She murmurs words he recognizes as Orcish, but he does not understand them. Her hand drifts lower to his abdomen. Another body, one welcome and so close, is a new experience for her. She knows what his body looks like, what it appears to her as. But she is fueled by what she understands now as need. It strings her taught like a wire, and his body is the resonance she wants.

Every sensation puts his mind deeper into a fog while he tries to focus on the places she touches. He imagines his skin painted with her caresses: clear finger and handprints on his shoulder and neck, defined lip marks on his mouth and in the wet hair of his beard, and a messy trail moving down his chest and drifting ever lower. If the sight from before was not enough to have him fully aroused, this  _ is.  _ His hand at her back rises and spreads over the middle. Muscles flex and contract as she roams over him. The beat of the water on his head and back is a numb buzzing now, and her body is beginning to dry. 

When he takes her thighs and holds her back, she presses herself as close to him as she can get. Her arm hooks around his neck in anticipation. The lift and turn is slow and cautious, and Ma’loth cannot remember the last person able to lift her as though she weighed nothing. Her skin tingles as the water hits her full-force, and the Nord gazes down at her with such a  _ loving _ look in his eye that she forgets to breathe. But she is not afraid because something deep within her told her it would happen. She takes his hardened length in her hand and feels the heat of his cheeks near her tusks. She gives one long stroke from the base to the head and back.

Argis bites at her lip, and immediately draws back.

“I apologize, my Thane, I didn’t mean to hurt you—” 

“It didn’t hurt, so hush,” she growls, low and heady. Her lips are back on his, and though she cannot bite him back in the same fashion, she makes due with licking at the seam of his mouth. He permits her entrance, and she finds his tongue with her own. They are both clumsy and greedy: once she tugs his tongue into her mouth, he is already tugging back. Her strokes continue as she feels out what his body reacts to. She barely realizes how sizable he is until now. It is longer than the space from the heel of her hands to her fingertips, and its weight sits heftily against her palm.

As she works her way around his cock, Argis takes one of her thighs in hand and pushes it gently. She spread her legs for him, The hand previously at her ass comes to her front. He hovers, unsure of whether or not to delve into her or not. She leans closer. His fingers brush against her heat as she moves to the tip of his penis. The water cascading from her body does little to cover up the fact that she is nearly as aroused as him. The lips of her quim are slick past the patch of hair at her mound. The tiny water droplets splashing off of her skin become dull once again. His fingers slide across the damp between her legs, and her strokes falter.

Thick fingers coat themselves with her and massage her entrance. There were nights when she did the same, trying hard to push herself to the ecstasy she has heard so much about yet never experienced. She rocks her hips against his hand and gasps when his fingers graze her bud. It is momentary, as fleeting as the pleasure she can supply herself, but oh so much better. His calloused fingertips are rougher than her own and, presumably, more skilled. He pulls away from their kiss and regards her with a lust-filled gaze. His right pupil is huge, obscuring most of his single hazel eye. Ma’loth tries to keep her focus on him and not the ease with which he explores her body. 

The soft noises she makes amuse Argis. He never thought she would be vocal, but it is far from disappointing. As he prods at her entrance, he lowers his head to her neck. One finger enters to the first joint. She stretches around him easily, and his mouth latches on to her throat. Argis works the digit within her, inserting it to the knuckle as he suckles at her skin. Her hand resumes stroking him, but it is absentminded and loose.

“Good?” he asks against her neck. The soft grunt she gives in response makes him smile against her neck. He exhales against her neck, and it creates goosepimples all over her back. His finger works itself in until there is nothing left. She can feel herself encase it as it grinds against her walls. It sends little sparks cascading through her body and heat sliding through her tummy. He pumps his finger out of and back into her, and she bites the inside of her cheek. A low whine rumbles through her chest as he picks up his pace. 

Argis withdraws his finger before replacing it along with another. Her walls stretch around his fingers more, but he is much more concerned with how it would feel around his cock. The wetness and warmth of her insides makes his cock twitch against her hand. His pace quickens along with her breathing. He angles his palm to brush against her clit.

“Argis.” The word rolls off of her tongue and sticks to every fiber of his being. He wants to hear her crying out for him again and again and scream it when she clenches around him and climaxes. He murmurs an acknowledgement but is too caught up with his thoughts. One of her hands takes his wrist in her grasp and gently pushes it away from her heat. He blinks, drawn back by her touch.

“Yes, my Thane?”

“I want you to… uh,” she mutters, now slightly embarrassed. She turns her head, breaking eye contact with him. Having never been with anyone, she has never had to ask. She worries the inside of her cheek. Ma’loth understands how coupling works and what goes where, but she feels out of touch. Before she left the stronghold, she was told she would marry a chief and bear children then. But life has not panned out the way her parents thought it would. She imagines him laughing enough to lose his erection and the mood. When she looks to him again, his eyebrows are raised in expectation, but his gaze is still soft. No… Argis has been with her for months. He follows her through every ruin and barrow without her asking. And she understands it is because she is the Thane to Markarth, but there are other things. His stealing glances at her when he thought she was not looking, gradually setting his bedroll up closer to hers over time. He even learned to cook a few traditional Orc dishes because she mentioned missing her stronghold once. Her heart tells her he would not laugh. She inhales deeply. She is done fighting with herself. “I want you.”

To say that Argis is excited is an understatement. His heart beats so fast that he can barely breathe. He had forced the thoughts from his head so many times that the moment they are allowed to run wild, they overtake everything else in his mind. He is already crowding her against the wall, one hand snaking behind her thigh. His mouth is on her neck and his hands hoisting her up. Her hips are at his waist and legs hooked over his arms before she can find it in herself to respond.

“Argis, by Malacath!” Her face flushes dark green with blood. “Put me down,” she growls, “I am  _ heavy.” _

“No, you aren’t,” he chides. The length of his cock is sandwiched between their hips. “You are not heavy by any means. And I’m not some smarmy milkdrinker that says it to make you feel better.” He grinds against her slit and kisses her softly. He wants badly to delve into her folds with wild abandon. Even now, with her slick coating him and water spraying onto him full-force, his insides churn violently. He is anxiety and excitement personified. But, as he shifts her weight against his arms and lines himself up with her slit, he steeles himself.

Ma’loth realizes how tense she is and urges herself to relax. With every muscle in her body, every ounce of herself, she wants this. The pressure at her entrance is pleasant and questing. She wonders if it will hurt as greatly as others say it will. With her legs hooked over his arms, she curls her arms about his neck and gets comfortable.

“Are you ready?” His voice is barely more than a rumble in her ears. She nods and places her forehead against his cheek. Argis rolls his hips into her and drives himself in halfway. The sparks of pain dancing in her abdomen are slight, but they are slowly eclipsed by the feeling of her stretching around him. It takes her longer to completely accommodate his girth.

He turns his head, and his mouth is at her temple. “Gonna move now.” His warning is overshadowed by him hilting himself fully within her. A string of Orcish expletives leave her lips.

His blood runs cold. Had he hurt her? No matter how badly he wants this, he never wanted for that to happen. “Are you alright? Does it hurt?”

“No, it’s just…  _ huge.”  _ She shifts her weight against him. He grinds against every part of her, and it makes her gasp. She knows he is completely still and waiting, but she cannot control the shiver that racks through her. His fingers flexing against her thigh, the heat of his body, and the caress of his breath are all nearly too much. Ma’loth arches her back and feels something inside her tighten.

Argis feels it too, all around him. His fingers bite into her skin with his forced control. He greatly appreciates her compliment to his size, but he is tired of talking. The water beating on his head is a constant reminder that the hot water will eventually run out, and the last thing he wants is to lose the moment to the environment. He pulls his hips back, leaving only his head within the tight warmth of her snatch. Her whole body is tensed against him again in preparation for its return. He hilts himself again, meeting less resistance than the first time.

She thinks her body has a mind of its own. It writhes and wriggles as though looking for something it  _ knows _ is there. She arches, curls into herself, flexes her thighs against his arms for any sort of purchase. New sensations make lights dance behind her eyelids and tear the breath from her lungs. She finds a particular spot, one that makes her legs tremble and her vision blur as he finds a rhythm. The finality of every wet slap their meeting skin makes bounces around in her skull. Her toes curl behind him, and her nails dig light grooves into the back of his neck. It is too much and not enough all at once. 

The ways she tenses and relaxes around him makes his head spin. But he finds enough concentration to pull back and look her in the eye. Her gaze is clouded, dark, and searching for him. He finds her lips in his own haze and latches on to them as he works his hips faster. Her tongue tangles with his weakly, her tusks pressing against the sides of his mouth.

When she climaxes the first time, it is a sudden, blinding flash of pleasure from a well-placed thrust. Her mind melts, and she hangs on to him as though she will drift into nothingness. Only one word comes from her. She is chanting his name, but she can barely recognize if she is shouting or whimpering. Argis’ mouth leaves hers before going to her cheek and neck. There is the hot flash of his tongue on her skin and muttered words in her ear. Cooling water drips from his hair and beard into her shoulder and chest. She focuses on his tongue to keep her grounded.

He guides her through her orgasm. He tells her how wonderfully she is doing, taking his cock to the base with little more than a whine. He compliments the sound of her voice, the curves of her body, everything. He wants her to know how he feels without actually saying it. She has given him more than he could ever ask for.

The water is getting colder by the time she comes down. Her legs still give little tremors, and her pussy is still pulsing around him. She feels the water running off of him and onto her and shivers. She hears him chuckle into her neck.

“Let’s finish this in a bit, when I’m clean and we’re not strapped for time.”


	26. Male!Altmer Thief/Niruin - Voyeurism, Getting Caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niruin has a routine of watching the newest thief in the guild bathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I hope everyone likes this chapter. I tried to take a slightly different approach, but I really enjoyed writing it either way! Might add another chapter with them before this is over. Anyway, thanks for reading!

Niruin watched the newest addition to the Thieves’ Guild, Mironar, a slightly too slender Altmer with startlingly dark hair and green eyes. He carried a change of clothes and a small towel within his arms. The Bosmer had only spoken to the other mer maybe once or twice, but he knew the other’s routine by now. He would wake early in the morning when Niruin was awake. He spent some time in the training room before taking on whatever small jobs he could. More often than not, the jobs would be in other holds and he would be gone for a day or two. Upon returning, the Altmer would bathe in the hidden room beneath the statue to Nocturnal that most members forewent dealing with. They mainly hated heating up water for the bath.

He learned early on that Mironar was the exact opposite. He religiously went into the bathing room, got undressed, and heated the water with a fire spell. Then, when he tested the water and it was the right temperature, he would dip himself in and bathe until the water was nearly lukewarm. From Niruin’s vantage point a few feet away from the bath, he always had the best seat in the house.

He slipped silently behind his fellow guildmember and entered the cramped hallway. He tried to match his footfalls with the other as best he could to avoid suspicion. Of course, he was completely bare, even foregoing his boots for silence. He would never be able to do it without invisibility potions.

When they both got into the bath chamber, Niruin sat back and marveled at just how fascinating the other was. Mironar removed his boots, gloves, curiass, and pants like clockwork. The narrow musculature of his chest and shoulders came into view. The yellow-green veins beneath his skin were barely visible. Scars, hidden when he wore his armor, stood out on his arms and upper chest. His skin was taut over wiry, building muscle. His legs were long, defined, and split wonderfully on either side of his cock. Then he removed the leather tie keeping his hair from his face. That was Niruin’s favorite part: like watching a show practiced just for him. The High Elf always struck him as oddly beautiful, a recently uncovered wonder.

Niruin sat up a little straighter and took in the view of Mironar’s ass and thighs as he leaned to draw water from a pump in the wall. The up, down, up down motion of his arms left most of his body open for gazing. The archer ran his damp palms against his thighs. Keeping himself tame before the actual show started was frustrating at best. He flexed his muscles and lay quietly as the other mer heated his bathwater. The sound of fire colliding with the water and sizzling barely kept his attention. He imagined Mironar’s slender fingers flitting over his skin like butterflies. Little knots built in his stomach and wound his muscles tight. But he tried to keep his head clear to count the seconds since he took the potion.

Suddenly, Niruin noticed a break in the routine. The Altmer walked back to his clothing, posture as perfect as ever, and procured a tiny vial from his a pouch within his cuirass. The bottle was clear, like a common potion bottle, but it was small and slim like a bottle of skooma. Gods, he hoped Mironar hadn’t picked up that habit. The liquid inside was a gray mixture that reminded him of leaves during Hearthfire.

He walked back to the bath and uncorked the bottle. The scent of mountain flowers and tundra cotton filled the air. It was new and refreshing, though assailing at first. One, two drops fell into the hot water when the Altmer tilted it over the bath. Then he quickly corked it and replaced it within his armor. 

Niruin followed the mer as he returned to the bath and dipped a finger in. The temperature seemed to be to his liking since he gripped the side of the basin, raised his left leg, and plunged it in to the knee. A satisfied sigh drifted to Niruin’s ears, and he balled his hands into fists. He wanted to wait, but his own length was standing at full attention. They both knew what was coming as he took his length in his hand and gave a tentative stroke.

He bit his lip hard to keep quiet. Mironar had already submerged his body in the tub and was working on cleaning himself. The slow movements of his body, the scent in the air, and the secrecy were making it too hard for him to bear. He felt his orgasm curling in his stomach, building beneath the pressure of his hand. Mironar had already finished cleaning his upper body. His left leg was hooked over the side of the tub, a lather worked up from his knee to his toes. The idea of the taller mer’s precise hands on Niruin’s body and his own back arched to look up at him made his toes curl. He slouched in the chair and bit the knuckles of his free hand as he stroked himself. A quiet whine bubbled in his throat and died there, lest he be caught.

His orgasm came quick and hot. With a gasp, his cock was twitching. He emptied himself over his own chest, ropes of white clinging to him and sliding down his abdomen. He struggled to catch his breath, chest heaving and arms shaking.

Through his post-orgasm haze, he felt the all too familiar tingling of his body becoming visible again. He panicked, ready to bolt from the chair and back up the steps. But what if the stone door got him caught? It caught and scraped on the stone all the time. And there were so few pieces of furniture and crevices to hide behind or in that it didn’t seem like a wise option to stay. 

“I know you are there, Niruin. I swapped your potion with one that had a shorter durability.” The Altmer spoke softly, as though talking to himself, with his eyes focused on the water. It was the same low, quiet murmur Niruin remembered first hearing from him. His finger played in the water, drawing unseen and rippling shapes. The Bosmer was stock still, cock softening and eyes wide. Mironar lifted his head and locked eyes with the Wood Elf. “Sometimes you can be a tad too loud for just wanting to watch.”

The archer’s face blossomed a ruddy brown to the tips of his ears. Loud? He was  _ loud?  _ When had he ever gotten louder than the softest of whispers? He must have been at least audible if the other mer knew to investigate the chest at the foot of his bed… 

“. . . Why didn’t you say anything earlier, then?” Niruin asked. “You knew I was doing this for how long? Yet you didn’t say anything?”

Mironar shrugged. “I never said the attention went unappreciated.”


	27. Fem!Redguard Harbinger/Skjor - Distracted Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in an AU where Aela is killed by the Silver Hand and Skjor survives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with lies and regret for a little razzle dazzle. I wanted to write something sad but still raunchy, so here you go. Thanks for reading!!

“-jor… Skjor… Skjor!”

The Nord blinks and focuses his one good eye. His mind was so far from the two of them, from the joining of their two bodies beneath them. He realizes that he hasn’t been moving for the past few seconds and has just been staring down at her with a blank gaze. Toyona’s golden brown irises are on him.

“What’s gotten into you? You haven’t been responding to anything I say.”

A bubble of embarrassment rises deep from within him, but he tries to keep it at bay. He doesn’t want to tell her that in the corners of his vision, he can see Hircine’s eternal hunting grounds. He hates how the others see him now: the Harbinger’s aging dog. Whenever she hears the comments, she snaps at the whelps and members of the Circle alike. Yet, in spite of all of her efforts and his own intimidating the others, he still hears these rumors frequently. And the loom of the afterlife makes it no better.

“Nothing. I just got a little,” he pauses and pulls out before driving into her with a particularly hard thrust. The gasp he is rewarded with forces his embarrassment back a bit. “Distracted. It’s fine, just don’t worry about it.”

“We don’t have to keep doing… this,” she offers. She shifts beneath him and sighs as he shifts back, his pelvis grinding against her clit. From above her, he can make out every tiny wrinkle on her face. She frowns, and the lines on her forehead deepen. “I love you, but I understand that this can be difficult. With everything that has happened—”

And there the bubble is again. It works its way into his blood and seeps into every muscle and thought. But it is trailed by other emotions: doubt and sadness. He doesn’t see himself as a quitter. He hunches over her, hiding her smaller body beneath his. He wants so badly to forget, to drive his cock into her until the only thing he can think about is filling her with his seed and passing out next to her in her bed.

“ _ No, _ ” he hisses, finding his rhythm again. He fucks into her hard and fast as he tucks his head against her neck. His fingertips dig into her hips so deeply that he is sure there will be bruises on her skin later. Yet he knows neither of them care enough to protest. “The whelps are just that: whelps. They have no idea what in Oblivion they’re talking about. And the members of the Circle can fuck themselves.” He feels her nails dig into his back as she clings to him. But, on the very edges of his consciousness, he can feel the emotions swimming, combining, and separating. He is embarrassed that he lets this get to him so often. He doesn’t doubts he deserves the Harbinger, that she has given him more chances than he should have been given. It makes him wonder why she stays. And sadness that he still sees Aela watching him from the hunting grounds with a sly smile, yet he cannot bring himself to tell the Harbinger.

He gently bites at her shoulder and feels her body shudder against him. Eventually, he will tell her. But tonight, he’ll will himself to forget. 


	28. Fem!Dunmer DB/Kharjo/Dro'marash - Spitroasting, Threesome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merivyn and Kharjo notice that Dro'marash seems a little anxious lately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took such a long time, I was waiting on my friend to proofread it and gives me some advice. But here's the unfinished version!! Maybe I'll post a continuation later? Anyway, thanks for reading.

“ _ Just like that. _ ”

Merivyn’s eyes travel up Kharjo’s chest at the sound of his voice, making note of every change in fur color and every plain of muscle she could see. The rise and fall of his chest captivated her. He reminded her of her father’s paintings: vast and colorful, but always with a theme. Now, the theme is lust, insatiable and overwhelming in his eyes. His attention is on her and her mouth around his dick. His fingers card through her hair, and his claws ghost over her scalp. A shuddering moan envelopes his cock. He catches her hair in a fist and pulls but quickly loosens his grip. It takes everything in her power to not melt between him and Dro’marash.

Dro’marash holds her hips, the thin fur along his pelvis brushing against her ass. He groans and leans over her. She swears she can feel his pounding heart against her back. Though she can feel the cold through the bottom of their tent, his heat radiates all around her. The fur on his face tickles her skin and raises goosebumps along her spine. He murmurs in Ta’agra. She assumes whatever he says is funny because Kharjo lets out a throaty chuckle and hums in response. She wants to tell him to say it again in Tamrielic, but that requires leaving the cock in her mouth unattended.

Dro’marash’s breath hitches as his hips stutter. He pulls his cock from her. She whines around Kharjo, but hums at the kisses he places on her back and the finger he inserts into her. Both she and Kharjo know it has been too long since he last enjoyed the intimate company of another or others. His first release, Merivyn had assumed, would likely be quick. Yet here he is, keeping himself on the edge long enough for the other two to near their own release. She focuses on the pace set by his hand and tries to keep her own rhythm. Part of her worries about being knicked from within, but she believes he can control himself.

“How wet is she?” Kharjo murmurs to the other Khajiit. Merivyn feels her cunt clench around Dro’marash’s finger. “I want to picture it.”

“Dripping. I would fear for our bedrolls were we in them,” Dro’marash purrs. In an instant, the finger is gone. An inhale. A second of silence. Then the finger is back inside of her. “And she tastes better than sweetmilk. I would love to taste it directly from the source.”

She barely picks up that the last statement is towards her. She knows from experience that Khajiits’ tongues are rougher than those of men and mer, and the idea of Dro’marash’s face beneath her with Kharjo watching made her groan in anticipation. The finger inside of her is suddenly not enough, and she wishes to be filled again. Kharjo beckons to her.

Merivyn holds him by the base as she releases him from her mouth. She straightens, shuffles closer to him, and feels Dro’marash follow suit. His finger falls away from her at the odd angle, but his cock fits deftly in the cleft of her ass. She tried her best to stroke Kharjo’s length while grinding against Dro’marash’s. But her hand is pulled away and gently kneaded between Kharjo’s fingers. He leans down and brushes his mouth against the hollow of her neck. Two hands, one from in front and one from behind, come to cup her breasts. She feels the brush of fur against her back as well. Kharjo’s breath fans against her skin as he speaks.

“You will, soon.” 


	29. Fem!Bosmer DB/Sinding - Monsterfucking/Werewolf Sex, Practice, Praise Con't.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sinding learns to control his beast blood after surrendering Hircine's ring and promising to live alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry for the second, shorter(?) hiatus, but I'm back! This is the second to last chapter in this fic series (don't worry, there's probably going to be lots more smut from other series and couples). But in case anyone had any specific ideas about a couple/kink idea for the final slot, just let me know! Anyway, thanks for reading!

“You can do it this time,” the Bosmer encouraged. “You’re bigger than the wolf.”

Her words caressed his ear, and he slammed up into her. His fingers sank into the flesh of her ass as he guided her along his length. Her words did somersaults in his head. This was important,  _ much  _ more important than his impending release. But all Sinding could do was grunt in response. His focus was on her scent: sweat, leather, and pussy. He felt his mind wading through the deepest of Morthal’s swamps, yet every thought came far too quickly. He wanted her in every way he could imagine. The beast blood pulsing in his veins howled and growled and whined to finish.

This was the point of the practicing, so he could get better control of his beast blood through his haze of emotion. He no longer possessed Hircine’s ring or the curse. But he felt that he surrendered himself to the transformation too often. They had tried hunting, sparring, and any other activities they thought would have his blood running hot. Yet none worked as well as the two of them atop one another, wrestling naked in her bed or on the damp grass of the grotto. Initially, he would end up surrendering to the shift minutes into their encounters. He pushed the rush away in the moment, but it would quickly take over him in the minutes after. Now, they were months into their practicing, and he could last most of the time in his human form. He had the hardest time when she was atop him and controlling the rhythm. He wanted so badly to surrender, to feel the transformation, his bones breaking and setting, features altering beyond recognition.

He was pulled from his thoughts with a kiss. Her lips were demanding he pay attention to her and not the wolf demanding to be set free. He pressed his tongue to her lips, but in an instant, her mouth was wandering along his jawline and to his neck. His skin grew hotter with the feel of her gaze on him. Her lips brushed against his neck before she bit down, and he audibly growled at the contact. She licked at the shallow marks she left on his skin. 

He felt his body pulsate with two heartbeats, one much louder than the other. A howl pierced his mind, and his ears were left ringing. His nails were already transforming into the claws he was so accustomed to. His teeth sharpened to points in his mouth and crowded behind his lips. Words hung on his tongue, but the sounds that came out were deep and primal.

“Sinding!”

Yet, it was too late. Whether or not he had accepted the change, it would have happened anyway. He held onto her ass as his bones broke and shifted. Sinew and muscle stretched as he grew taller and broader. Fur sprouted all over his body, and he felt his tail curling beneath him. His nose and mouth pulled into a point, creating his snout. His hearts pounded in his ears all the while, mixing with the low growls rumbling through his chest. He let loose a long howl as he heard his partner gasp. 

He was at his full length inside her. His knot sat just outside her entrance, but he held her to him and thrusted quicker than before. His near-frantic movements found him hilted within her in moments, knot and all. Her hands clutched little bunches of fur as she cried out. A flash of regret registered in the back of his mind. He hated disappointing her, as did his wolf. Yet he did not acknowledge the emotion in the moment. He felt his brain taken over by the crash of his orgasm, his cock pulsating within her. His body curled around her and his snout pressed into her hair as he pumped his seed into her.

When he was done, her legs shook with what he knew as her being full to the brim. A hand came to his muzzle and stroked the side of his face. Now, he was saddened by his lack of restraint. But as she nudged the bottom of his head with the top of her own. With his knot within her, the two would not be moving a reasonable distance for a while.

“You did wonderfully.” He whined softly in response. He had not felt that he did well, especially after screwing up once again. Sinding sat up and curled his arms around her waist. He buried his face against her as she stroked his cheek. He always had so many things he wanted to say to her in the afterglow. He wanted to tell her how he felt, how much he would rather their encounters be more than just practice. But he held himself over with her constant promises of the next time they would enjoy a moment like this. He breathed her in deeply and sniffed quietly.

“Let’s try again once you turn back.”


	30. Fem!Khajiit/Ulfric Stormcloack - Collars/Leashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aji'ri is seen as Ulfric's bodyguard, though what happens behind closed doors is far more than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for taking so long with this. I was struggling with literally finding the words to write, but I'm glad I took another break. Anyway, I plan on revisiting this because I actually wrote so much backstory before settling on the ending. I don't know if I've said this before, but FEEDBACK IS GREATLY APPRECIATED. LIKE, SO MUCH. It's one of the only ways I know how to grow besides practicing writing. And please keep suggesting other couples/characters/kinks! I enjoy writing these a lot. Anyway, thanks for reading!

After the Imperial’s defeat at the hands of the Stormcloaks, there were speeches to be given, parties to be thrown, and officials to see. Most of the speeches were given by other officials in Ulfric’s place, but there were times when his followers roared and demanded he be present and speak for himself. Tonight was one such night. The people of Riften, including Jarl Laila Law-Giver, requested for the Stormcloak leader to grace them with his presence. His uplifting speech led to much drinking and revelry. Mead flowed and laughter filled Mistveil Keep. As the night bled into the early morning, Ulfric snuck off to the Jarl’s sleeping quarters, which served as his own for the night.

Arji’ri yawned and stretched her arms high to the ceiling. Her fingers and toes splayed out, the claws on each digit glinting in the candlelight. She had become accustomed to the smaller homes in Skyrim and the fact that they were not made for people her size. Pahmar Khajiit often had harder times living amongst smaller Khajiit, let alone a smaller race altogether. She stood out from other Khajiit due to her stature and striping. Yet she was well-accepted as one of Ulfric’s bodyguards and a constant presence. Nords often eyed her wearily, but they grew to like her well enough once they realized she was on the side of the Rebellion. Even Ulfric himself was unsure of her before seeing how she performed in battle.

She felt the Nord’s eyes on her from behind. When she turned, she let her eyes wander over his body before making eye contact. Ulfric was clad in the best cloth his gold could buy. The startling blue of his tunic contrasted well with the gold thread sewn into it. His breeches, a more subdued grey, let his upper body shine with the most glory. His cloak hung about his neck, held in place by a seemingly ornamental-looking leather neckpiece. His face had reddened from alcohol consumption, and his hair was tousled out of his face. Blue irises bore into her own yellow ones. Though he was shorter than her by a few inches, she felt the power he held from his gaze alone. The tiredness in his eyes fought with the frustration and anxiety brewing there. His fingers went to his neckline, tugging at the laces on his tunic.

“Yes, my Jarl?” She had taken to calling him as such months ago. To Galmar and any other Stormcloak, it was the correct way to address the new High King prior to him receiving his official station. But Ulfric’s nose turned at the title. He always made that expression when he was impatient. The Khajiit listened closely, yet found that no one was in the room with them or near the exits. A smile curved her lips, exposing lethal canines.

“We are alone, Ulfric. Also, keep your clothes on.”

The words unwound all of the strings held taught in his body.

“I appreciate all of the support,” he muttered as he loosened the shirt from his neck, “but with Skyrim within my grasp and the Imperials and Aldmeri Dominion driven out, all I want…”

When he did not finish the thought, she offered a few ideas. “To visit all parts of Skyrim? To lose yourself in scenery than in warplanes?”

“To sleep,” he explained with a tired smile. “I would love to sleep right about now.” Arji’ri made her way around him and unhooked his cloak from the leather about his neck. She discarded the treated pelt over the back of a chair and brought her nimble fingers to his neckline. Every time she saw it, she had to admire the overly conspicuous collar about her partner’s neck. It was so conspicuous, in fact, that it passed as little more than a secure placement for his cloak. Oengul had been wary of the request, but once they reasoned with the man enough and produced a heavy enough coin purse, he agreed to create the piece. Fitting after fitting, adjustment after adjustment, Aji’ri had been there for it all. She even took part in carving the outer design for it: a simple forward-facing bear’s bust with an open maw. It was clearly modeled after the Stormcloak insignia, though it was meant to signify their head-on approach to ridding Skyrim of the Imperials’ influence. Just below the carving was a thickly smithed silver ring.

She reached around him and traced the carving lovingly. Fur ghosted the Nord’s skin and made him inhale quickly. She leaned down to his height and brushed her lips against the back of his neck. She adored every tiny reaction from him. The Khajiit brought her free hand to one of his and stroked the inside of his wrist. With her body pressed to his back, she guided him over to the side of the four-poster bed. His shins pressed to the frame, and she licked the top of his neck. The roughness of her tongue drew a long shiver from him. 

She produced a curled bit of treated leather from a pouch attached to her armor.

“Now?” Ulfric forced out, a little irritable but mostly breathless. The muscles in his neck and arms were taut. He craned his neck to look at Aji’ri and was met with a lop-sided smirk. She felt his heart hammering in his chest though his face did not betray it.

“Unless you have any ideas on how we could end up alone in a tent without waking every guard within earshot.” She shrugged as she brought the bit of leather to his neck and, reaching about him with both arms, looped it through the bit of silver. As she tied it into a sturdy knot, she nudged at his cheek with her nose.

“Aji’ri…”

“We can stop whenever you want.” One hand trails down his chest, the other keeping a firm grip on the leash. “You know what to say, and so do I. But I would rather spend tonight  _ unwinding _ if I can help it.” His chest rose and fell beneath her hand until she reached his abdomen.

“We’ll be tired tomorrow.”

“And? Our horses do most of the work anyway. Now.” She took his chin in her hand and pressed a semblance of a kiss to his temple. “Tell me. What would you like to do?”

***

Aji’ri felt a shiver run up her spine as Ulfric’s eyes searched her face. Her grip tightened on the leash in her grasp. His nose was buried in the fur above her sex, his mouth focused on the apex of her pleasure. Her toes curled as he pushed her thighs back against her abdomen. She tugged at the leather in her hands, and he buried his face further into her folds. His name was a hiss and a flick of her tongue behind her teeth. The soft hum of acknowledgment vibrated her slit and made her toes curl.

She felt the leash tug in her grasp. The intricate leather of his chest piece bit gently into his skin as he shimmied lower. Her hand followed, allowing slack for him to move. He held her down expertly, having become accustomed to her body and strength over their time together. Though Aji’ri was often wary of her size as a Pumar Khajiit, Ulfric took it in stride. He told her that he rather enjoyed how powerful she felt above and beneath him. Even in his gaze, she could see that he was thinking something similar. Though it was hard to say so with his mouth on her pussy. She rolled her fist and wrapped the leash around her clenched fingers. With a strong tug, she motioned that she wanted him to slow down.

He obeyed, circling her clit slowly with his tongue. She saw the smirk in his eyes, covered slightly by his disheaveled hair. The Khajiit hummed as she brushed the hair out of his face with a single knuckle. The color that rose to his face was slight, but she enjoyed it greatly. He could blush so easily despite his station and typical demeanor.

“I wonder how the people of Skyrim would see their king as he is now,” she mused aloud. “Face buried between the thighs of a Pumar mercenary. Docile and happy to do as he is instructed rather than how he pleases.” She brought her free hand to his hair and caressed his scalp with her claws. Ulfric rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, nearly turning his face from her core. She felt his hips shift and press into the bed. She held the leash steady and was more than willing to watch him try to pleasure himself through his clothes. She felt his lips capture her clit, and her hips rose to grind against him.

He probably could not care less. Aji’ri felt the ebbing of her orgasm in her nerves and looked to the ceiling. She knew she would be cumming soon, yet she smiled solemnly. She could handle being seen as nothing more than a sellsword if it meant having moments like this between herself and the future king of Skyrim.


End file.
